Death And Rebirth
Scene Name: Death and Rebirth
Date & Time: 08.28.2011 6:00p.m. -8:00 GMT
Characters: Anglia, Drakth, Faith, Katherine, Morgana

Blodtwulf Garden

As you step into the garden, you can smell the heavenly scent of the various flowers. Many flowers, familiar and foreign flowers alike. The garden is huge and looks very enchanting by night. The small white flowers, their shape reminding of the flowers called 'Forget me not's' line the paths, open up and grant their gentle light to allow you to see, this is a special flower indeed. Most of the garden is covered with delicate flowers and luscious trees, making you forget everything and relax, as if you are in paradise. The path is made out of white marble, the entire garden giving you a heavenly feel even if owned by a demon. The small white flowers are assisted by statues of beautiful women holding an oil lamp or a torch, not one statue the same as another. The statues are placed all over the garden. In the middle of the garden is a clearing, large lounge couches providing a nice spot to sit and enjoy the sight. Small tables stand next to the couches, so food and drinks and maybe even other things can be set there. In the middle of the clearing stands an elegant fountain, filling the garden with the gentle sound of running water.

Anglia hums softly as she tends to her garden. For quite a while now, the Fae was, and still is, very weak, but that didn't keep her from doing her chores. The garden is in full bloom, various exotic fruits and flowers tempting you to smell and taste them. Anglia is gathering the ripe fruits. She pops a strawberry between her lips and smiles softly. "Delicious!" She giggles and continues on, her musical humming filling the garden.

It's because of that humming that Faith has been able to slip onto the grounds as quietly as she has. On a windless and rainy day like this (or night, even), it washes away her scent long enough to keep the Dire wolves at bay. For now. She must be quick to complete the task that has been set out for her. Lurking behind the statues, she watches the Fae very quietly, noting the wings that bind her to the air, should she see it necessary to use them. If she were to make her move, it must be quick…A dagger rests in her gripped palm, squeezing it tightly and becoming familiar with the weapon. The young girl then slowly moves out from behind the statue, sneaking forward to the small woman's back, with only this in mind: Silence is key. Getting as close to her foe as possible, Faith takes a risk and reaches out quickly for her, grabbing the girl by her throat and pulling her tightly against her body to compress those wings to her chest. If successful, her grip would be firm, cutting off her air supply just enough to prevent any noises from escaping. "Hello, beautiful." The Thao'baan vampiress whispers.

Anglia squirms helplessly, the basket of fruits slipping out of her grasp and falling onto the ground as she tries to free her throat so she can breathe properly. She doesn't recognise the voice talking to her, why would someone she doesn't know do this? She squirms and kicks around, trying to free herself. Even though she doesn't get enough air to make much noise, that doesn't mean she doesn't try.

Now that she has a firm grip on the smaller woman, that knife comes into play, raising high enough for her to see it very, -VERY- clearly, at which point her gripping palm is replaced by the glinting metal. "Say one word and I slit your throat, understood?" The tone in her voice tells that there is no chance this is a joke of any kind, and she is in fact dead serious. With her grip on the girl's neck gone completely, air is capable of moving down into her lungs again, keeping her alive. That hand instead takes place somewhere else upon her body, snaking around and taking place at the front of Anglia's body, directly above the stomach. "Hmmm. Pretty little thing you are. I can see why your Master keeps you around…"

Anglia’s eyes widen and her body freezes at the sight of the knife. Usually she didn't fear much for her own life, but she couldn't die now, not with her child all helpless and all. She nods carefully when asked if she understood. She breathes deeply as soon as that hand leaves her throat. She blushes brightly when the stranger, whom she still hasn't been able to glance at, comments on her looks. She trembles slightly with embarrassment and fear, uncertain of what will happen. She peeks at the tower, more worried about the children than about herself.

Faith breaths hot air over the girl's ear, tickling her skin while keeping the knife taught against her throat for protection. The hand positioned at her stomach now starts to shift downwards, those slender fingers hiking up the length of the free flowing dress until skin starts to appear beneath the tips of those five digits. It would seem this woman is a sexual creature of sorts, and is aiming to humiliate the little Anglia by gaining access to those delicate little folds beneath her clothing. "Eyes forward, huney." The vampiress states firmly at the glance spared to the tower. "I would hate to have your Master find your body lying lifeless on the steps to his house."

Anglia perks surprisedly and obediently shifts her gaze to right in front of her. Her eyes widen and her cheeks flush as she feels the unfamiliar lady's hand tugging her dress up. Obviously she tenses up. Her arms wrap around herself in a protective manner and her legs press closely together. She nibbles on her lower lip, a nervous habit of hers. The poor girl is so scared that she doesn't even realise that just a drop of her blood would be enough for the Dire wolves to notice that something was going on. Not allowed to make a sound and unable to move, the girl truly is helpless.

"Good girl." Faith whispers into her captive's ear. Her fingers keep stretching downwards, sliding towards Anglia's nethers and forcing her way past those tightly clamped legs. "Relax, dear. Have a little bit of Faith. We're just a couple of girls looking to have some fun, right?" Unsurprisingly, her voice is hardly relaxing or seductive, although her intentions are clear. Bit by bit she forces her way deeper between the fae's thighs, seeking out that little nub that drives every woman crazy.

Anglia shivers slightly each time that stranger whispers into her ear. She tries to keep her legs tightly closed, tries to keep that hand away from her private part by pulling and pushing that hand away, but it is no use. Even if there was a chance of her being able to muster up enough strength for that, the Fae was way too weakened to be able to even budge the lady, let alone push her away. Soft tears gather in her eyes and her throat closes up, making it hard for her to breathe once more.

Anglia's trembles only further her delight, giving Faith even more reason to press onward, eventually her finger tips locating that small little nub. An evil smile pulls to those lips of hers, and those fingers trace deeper in between those legs, digging deeper until they can feel her womanhood squeezing against them. "Open up, darling. You know you want this…We both know no man can do the same things us women can." It's here that those fingers decide to curl upwards, attempting to prod their way into Anglia's vaginal opening, collecting whatever moisture here she can.

Anglia gasps softly, two words softly escaping her lips. "No…please…" Not louder than a whisper and almost blending in with the gasp, it isn't loud enough to anger the lady, but it still makes Anglia's heart clench with fear. She's still trying to pull that hand away from her private part, with no success. Her folds are tight and soft, not at all moist from excitement. She sobs softly, that forceful entry hurting her not only physically, but mainly emotionally. Another whisper escapes her lips. "P…please stop… I beg of y…you…"

Why would she stop when such torment is what her kind feast upon? Her fingers continue to push and pull from Anglia's nethers, trying to encourage some sort of flow that would make her task that much easier. And yet this tight little Fae shows no responsive signs at all to her attempts. Growing in her ear, that knife presses tighter against the girl's throat, reminding her of silence. "Shh. You just need a little Faith, huney. It seems I came a little unprepared this time. No worries. We'll just have to try again." The hand that was digging down beneath Anglia's lifted skirt now suddenly flies up, taking a hold of her mouth and nose, pinching both shut and blocking all access to intake and exhale air, giving Faith the perfect opportunity. With no hesitations, the Thao'baan princess bites down hard into the Fae's neck where the knife was, trapping her blood in between her lips, and taking a large drink to weaken her even further.

Anglia silences herself as soon as she feels that knife press against her throat again. She didn't expect the stranger to block her nose and mouth; neither did she expect Faith to bite her. A muffled whimper escapes her lips as those fangs break pale skin. She feels herself weaken as the unfamiliar vampire feeds off of her. Her legs tremble and eventually buckle as she loses the energy to keep herself up. Not enough blood and not enough air, the combination of both brings her close to fainting.

Another day spend mainly within the confines of her laboratory has left the Lady of the Blodwulffen feeling wan and in need of fresh air. Tossing her white lab coat across the back of her chair she leaves the room, locking it behind her. After changing her clothes she makes her way to the nursery, checking in on the little ones who are sleeping. Peeking into her son's room she finds the boy… the young man, she reminds herself, engaged in exercises. Smiling she calls out to him. "Would you care to join me outside for a bit? Then you practice in the open air." And I can spend some time with you as well, she thinks to herself.

Turning towards the door Dacian halts, his chest rising and falling as he pants with exertion. Smiling at his mother the lad nods and the pair make their way through the tower in companionable silence. Reaching the outer doors they turn as one for the garden, the outdoor sanctuary of their island. It is Dacian who stops first, halting his mother with a hand across her path. Katherine pauses, peering at her son then into the garden. Even as she spies what caught his attention the young warrior is off and running. Pulling a blade from his belt he growls out a battle cry. So much like his father, Katherine murmurs inwardly as she makes her way into the garden a slightly less harried pace.

Her intention was to never kill the small woman. Just hurt her a little and break her spirit. Nothing horribly wrong in that, right? Once Anglia starts to fall downwards, Faith releases her and begins stepping towards the exit, moving at a brisk pace, knowing that the scent of spilled blood will surely call out the vampires. And look at that, right on cue. A miniature Drakth calls for her attention with his war cry, knife in hand and booking it towards herself. There's a grin on her face, and the vampiress starts a charge of her own, though not for anyone here in specific. Instead, she runs as fast as the wind can carry her. Already small and agile, this isn’t' a complicated feat for her. Her father's horse, Nightmare, already waiting just over a league away, something she had brought with her just in case this was to happen.

Anglia falls onto the ground as soon as she's released. She's still conscious, but only barely. The girl's in a poor state, her dress a bit ruffled, her neck bearing a barely noticeable mark and also a bite mark which isn't healed up. As soon as she was released, her body worked to get as much air in as soon as she can, but with her being so weak at the moment, that took a bit. She closes her eyes slowly. She felt so tired…

The siren had surfaced in the swath of water between her bone island and the blodwulf beach. She treaded water for a short while, stirred by what she was not yet sure but a general feel of something being not quite right so close to her lair. When young Dacian's war cry fills the air the Siren moves quickly to action. She swims hard for land leaping from the water and taking on her legs without a thought to what she maybe running to, only that HIS call rang of danger and she could not bring herself to not respond. The siren is fast; her body conditioned to fighting her way through water, the land holds no density to slow her. Ancient and touched by the essence of Nox itself the siren quickly makes her way toward the garden and that sound. She catches sight of Dacians back and a fast moving female and a winged steed known to her…from times she has met its owner. The thought of the young males being in danger moves her to sharp action and her voice lifts, a long piercing wail of sound comes from her, the ringing sound enough to make the ears ring and stun most.

As she jogs towards Anglia, leaving the small vampiress for her son to deal with, Katherine pulls as whistle from her shirt. Dangling from a strong it is nothing to look at, a simple dog's whistle. Bringing it to her lips, she blows hard into the instrument, just once, before dropping it. The small bit of metal bounces against her chest as she leaps over a small bush to avoid going around it. A few more steps take her to Anglia's side where she drops to one knee over the girl and begins assessing her condition. Protective but wary of the changes around her, Kat begins tending the wounds, speaking softly to her Butterfly.

Dacian matches the intruder’s movements, angling to block her escape with his body. Fangs flashing in the pale ever-twilight of the Sea of Stars, the warrior charges after the vampiress, seeing only an enemy who has spilt blood of one who is part of his family. Red tints his vision and his gaze narrows to see only the female. He leaps, covering the distance between them as if he had wings, his arms going about her waist as he pushes the girl down towards the dirt.

Faith's biggest mistake was attacking on the enemy's territory, knowing that it could have been a bad idea from the start. But she's a girl of action and danger, with a sadistic twist bubbling in her mind thanks to the snake her Father's demon corrupted her with. And in the end, as it stands, she has no regrets. Even if she was caught and tortured, the scars will forever remain on Anglia, and THAT is what makes her laugh as she darts away.

The Siren's wail, combined with Dacian's leap both lead to her downfall, thrusting Faith to the ground knees first, followed by the rest of her body. The scream encourages one of her own, a high pitched squeal as she tries to cope with the painful ringing in her ears. From beneath the little Master, Faith pulls her hands to the sides of her head, trying to block the horrid sound with very little success.

The Siren watches as Dacian takes down the woman. She speeds to the young warrior’s side but does not move to stop him from dealing with the one who would harm his Pack. She is close enough though that should need be, she can easily reach the fallen female. Her voice shifts though from high sharp wail into song, curling around those present, mournful and hypnotic. Naked in all her splendour the Siren stands at the ready to Aid Dacian but will not stop him from rending his prey should he choose.

The next few moments find the two women huddled together. Anglia is hardly aware of what is going on as her mistress covers the girl with her own body, attempting to shield her from the sound. Katherine presses her hands to her own ears, though the sound still penetrates. It grates along her nerves until she is shuddering. When the sound ends she gives herself a shake, blinking twice as she locates her son and… Morgana? Ah, the source of the sound. With a smile she goes back to tending Anglia.

Growling over his prey the warrior twists his hands into the girl's hair, pinning her head down as he straddles her body. His knife come to the girl's throat and slashes across it to a spurt of blood. If she is weak enough to die from such a wound then so be it. Only then does he bother to disarm her, ignoring the blood which spatters his cheeks and jaw. Glancing up at Morgana he shows no expression, only a cold rage that burns through his body. "Should I slay her now?" he asks, finally showing a hint of the true fire that burns within him.

While all the bipeds are busy a pair of husky creatures comes charging from the tower to answer Katherine's earlier whistle. Unerringly they locate their mistress and come to her side prepared to guard her from any threat. They are twins, each with fur that ranges from coal black, to pale grey in random patterns across their body. With large paws bearing 3 inch claws, and eyes that glow an unearthly red-brown like dried blood, they are the size of Great Danes though hardly as friendly.

The grip in her hair brings out a near pleasurable moan, this having been done to her many times over, although that is cut short by the slice to her throat. Blood spurts out at Dacian, coating his face, chest, and thighs in the crimson liquid, not to mention herself as well. It sprays freely, and while this is certainly a painful, and likely scary thing for one so young (mortal laws and all), it isn't enough to kill her. Not right away, anyways. Of course if she was left like this for hours, she would naturally bleed out and die eventually. There is an expressionless look on her face, and yet the core of her eyes holds a bit of a twinkle. Amusement of fear, it's hard to tell with her face covered in her own body fluids.

Anglia reaches out and grabs Katherine's shirt, her grip not very strong, but still there. She trembles weakly and sobs softly, the fear and humiliation still weighing heavily on her. The vampire chose a horrible time to attack her, the girl was always slow with healing as a price for her ability to heal others, but because she'd been weak lately, her body seems to have just given up on trying to close the wound.

The siren gazes down on young Dacian. "This one has trespassed in your lands, attacked your pack, she is yours prey. If you wish her end then it is within your right to take her life." She glances over at Katherine and the little singer then back down at the boy. "None can make this choice but you Young Prince, You are the one who took her."

Where had the Warlord been? He was brutality incarnate, where was He who openly challenged Solis to War?

Far away. Bathing in the monstrous blood of Nox's denizens. Der Blodtwulf had declared extermination of all that Was, for those resources his growing Tribe needs. There is a bellow miles and miles away as Skycleaver tears through the torso of a spindly ghoulish thing and the Warlord is so lost in his bloodlust that he doesn’t stop—not even for a prisoner of theirs. He gorges and feeds and murders until the only living creature is a Supreme Being heaving with air as The Rage burns his body and boils the blood on his flesh. EVERY part of the Chief's body is drowned in red ichor. His eyes are not golden but consumed by burning mitochondria and flared with a red light…

..And then he hears It. Some have asked how a man more like a lion is called Wolf, the sound that erupts is why. A bellowing howl that cuts into a gurgling snarl as his curved teeth draw together and he shakes with Rage. Morgana's voice is like a horn of War and in his blood drunkenness he is beyond vampire. Exploding from Earth he would be heard for miles in the silent world—-from far away like a jet engine starting up as he homed in on them. As The Warlord moves as speeds that cause his Enraged blood to actually smoulder and sizzle as it rips from wounds. Still, the dried blood clings and he is 'The Red God'…

The normally quick healing process that she has previously observed in Anglia does not seem to be kicking in as of yet. Frowning, the Lady leans further over her slave girl, peering at the wound. Frowning softly she inspects the wound then resumes pressing a clean cloth to it. From the sound of things Dacian has the prisoner well in hand and so she ignores them. Pulling Anglia into her arms she speaks softly. "What is that you need to heal, little one? I am not sure that my blood would do you any good."

Staring down at the young female who lies bleeding beneath him, Dacian tilts his head to one side, growling softly. "Her life is forfeit no matter what else happens. Perhaps my mother would have some use for her." The boy grins, but there is no amusement in the expression. "She is always looking for new subjects.”Though…" He sniffs at the blood, the tip of his tongue slipping out to taste it. "Father may wish to have a word with her as well."

The damage she has done to Anglia is done, and quite honestly went a lot further than she was expecting. Nevertheless, the results are effective enough for her. It satisfies her bloodlust, and her sadistic serpentine nature. Such a shame she was corrupted by her bloodline. The real Faith would have never done something like this, even if she was forced into it. This isn't the real Faith, though. This is her shell with a demon corrupting her from within. Bit by bit the bleeding slowly comes to a gradual stop, clotting and plugging up her wound, though she is still far off from a full recovery, her voice likely having been damaged enough that talking could pose to be difficult in the near future. So she lays on the ground, staring up at the small version of the man she attacked previously, grinning in the back of her mind, for surely he was to arrive soon to complete his promise of making her 'kneel'.

Anglia tries to compose herself. She then gestures weakly towards a certain part of the garden. "The herb… with the red flowers… you need to mash it up… and apply it to the wound… then wrap with a bandage…" She's very pale now, shivering with the cold. She's still in shock of what happened.

The Siren nods her head "as you wish Young Prince. Your prey, your choice. She is of the dark one and tainted, I am not sure her blood or flesh is fit to be fed from. You have done well; you have protected what is yours." The siren offers the boy a smile, standing in all her splendour, the pale light glinting off her pale pearl flesh. Dark hair falls over her shoulders and down her back, almost concealing her from sight but not quite, not that the siren seems to notice.

…Air cannot sustain Him; The Red God is a burning meteor of hellfire as flesh smoulders and only further paints him as some ancient image of War. His fists force Skycleaver into its sheathe and in doing they turn black and burn as The Rage bursts outwards as small flames that extinguish almost immediately. When it happens, it happens fast. He had seen it all through The Wolves. Faith knew not how right her thoughts were…and Der Blodtwulf lands on the shore with a VIOLENT eruption of earth. His wings are open and his blood bathed body steams and smokes. His wings are torn and ragged from the violence he endured through the flight. Footsteps cause the earth to shiver as his snarling form moves towards Faith and he fully expects his son to move. The boy would be rewarded earlier, Faith? Heaved by her temples up and then thrown against the wall of the Tower and before she could fall a blood drunk Drakth is there moving faster than he should—an Ancestor gorged on vitae. The Red God.

…She would be held by the top of her head with one powerful hand, and the other begins to drip blood violently and hiss as it hits the ground. Exposing Drakth's evolution, three inch black claws that are forced from beneath his nails. As they grow, Faith's eyes would be consumed by burning red oculars. "SERPENT!" He roars an inch from her face, splattering Faith's face with gore. Heal and clot? Not Faith. Not yet. "Dacian…let me show you how…your Grandfather killed…Snakes…” There are no other words, The Demon is spotted and Drakth's claws withdraw and he digs his index and middle finger into the neck wound. Beyond vocal cords as he just growls and stares, oh yes. Drakth knew of her Demon quite well. Then he finds it—and curls his fingers around the tongue and begins to violently force and tear the organ from her throat and throw it behind him. Snarling as he fights his urges to just…liquefy her.

There he was…though not quite as she remembered…Sparing him only a glance, Faith is then lifted from the ground by her skull, dangling for as long as it takes for her body to plow right into the tower walls, the stone crumbling beneath the force of her body. She grunts behind damaged vocal cords, pressing her feet to the ground and ignoring the amount of blood flowing free from her wounds. 'Serpent'. That got its attention. Black eyes turn into a solid gold, glaring defiantly at the Warlord from the shelter of His host. No matter the pain she is forced to go through on his behalf, so long as He remains within her living body, He is safe.

If it weren't for her voice being completely incapable of use, Faith would surely be screaming bloody murder as her tongue is ripped from the center of her throat. Instead, nothing more than guttural sounds manage to escape as she now twitches violently in pain against the wall. But alas, there is a voice…

"YOU CANNOT DEFEAT US, BLODTWULFS." There is no chance that this is her speaking, the words growling in dual voices from within her. Those eyes, belonging to her, are also possessed by the demon as it glares out at Drakth.

The earth shifts as the Chief of the Blodtwulffen tribe returns. The smirk on Dacian's face becomes a wicked grin. "Ah, speak of the Devil." The expression smoothes as he rises in one sift and graceful motion, reaching out to take Morgana's hand and pull her with him. The pair retreats towards Anglia and Katherine, the wolves growling but allowing the newcomers to get closer.

Kat gently lays Anglia upon the ground and goes to retrieve the specified plants. As her husband arrives she smiles, pausing to admire him and sigh about the damage done to her home before continuing with her activities. Gathering the plant she finds a smooth stone and washes it in the fountain. Using this and the edge of the fountain she grinds the plant into a rough paste. Primitive, but effective. Returning to Anglia she applies the paste, covering it with yet another piece of cloth. "I will clean it better later, little one." The woman winces as Anglia passes out, sighing as she cradles her closer.

The siren offers no resistance as Dacian takes her hand and draws her away. It was for his war cry that she left the waters and came at such speed, for his sake that she uttered that shill sound that stunned those close at hand and called the Warlord back to his clan. A glance is spared for the animals but she is drawn solely to tho boy…no…young man who has grown so fast in such short order. His hand nearly as large as hers now, his warm skin such a contrast to her sea chilled flesh. When they come to stop she stands close to the boy, the line of his form and hers meshing, a subtle touch, un thought of…natural.

The Warlord quiets and as The Serpent speaks there is a slow…red stained smile of a Great White.

If This was The Taint, before it was the Being who would reduce it to ash and from that grow a new Nox.

Once It silences, that smile only grows to reveal all of his vicious teeth. "..It is time to see your doom, Coward." The red eyes burn hot, and before they could stop Drakth's insatiable violence Faith's pelvis is /rammed/ by the thick armoured knee of the Ancestor. The Red God.

Then, claws bite into her shoulders and a dust cloud erupts as they soar up…up…up…..up. Three thousand feet. So high, that at the calculation that a human body falls at 170 mph she would hit ground in three or four minutes. Drakth, forces her by her neck /nearly/ dropping her to look down. Here is the death of The Serpent, an army of 200 fires burns close to The Tower. And what is this!? A ring of inferno expresses itself miles around Blodtwulf territory—Scorched Earth tactics. They are burning Nox to the ground. No words, just the proof that Blodtwulffen is coming for one being, The Snake itself. Nox will /burn/. The fires of maddened Enflamed only grow as monster and man alike fall and rise again to Der Blodtwulffen…then, Drakth drops her. To let her Fall.

What does The Warlord do? Contemplate. Two minutes of it as she soars to her doom and then…he is a bullet. Sailing downwards to capture her in his arms and bring her to rest in the Gardens again…

The siren's hand is held, her body pressed to the line of his side as the young warrior watches his chief deal with the intruder. There is a moment when the woman's nudity strikes him like a bolt of lightning, tightening his fingers around hers. His nostrils flare, catching her scent on the air and that of crushed herb all mingled with blood. A shudder goes through his body. Slowly the boy turns his head to look up at Morgana; he flames within him fanning as he studies her. /Mine!/ something within him speaks, and the boy growls softly. Dropping her hand he wraps his arm about her waist, heedless to the look his mother gives the exchange or the subtle growling of the wolves. His hand rests possessively on the curve of Morgana's hip, holding her tightly against his side. "Mine…"

Talks of snakes ant the warlord’s show of cat and mouse make the Siren restless. It is not her way to play with prey, either it is devoured or it is a carcass to add to her island but this toying makes the siren oddly impatient, or at least something does. She shifts from one foot to the other and her form brushing the boys. When he squeezes her hand she brings her eyes to his and for a long moment they are locked. His growl brings her head tilting to the side but she does not shy away as his arm curls around her body and he draws her closer to his warmth. His possessive utterance brings a slow smile to the sirens lips and she leans her face toward him, her cheek brushing his temple as she draws in his warmth against her.

The kick to her pelvis nearly shatters the bone, breaking it in several places and creating such pain that Faith keels over in pain, almost collapsing to her knees. But then something else happens. The sensation of flying. Peeking out from tears in her eyes, there is a world of chaos and flames burning in a large circle. The Serpent can't believe what He is seeing; amazed that one man could do something like this alone. And then out of nowhere, her body begins to drop to the ground, the speeding picking up as she goes with her blood pouring all over the sky, raining down on those below. And then something happens…If she dies, so does he, and there's no way in HELL he would allow that to happen.

Fuck her.

In a cloud of smoke, black coils of a snake-like being whisps from the many holes in her body, disintegrating into the air and waiting to find someone else to replace His host. When Drakth catches up to her, it's not a vampiress he's dealing with anymore. A mere mortal now suddenly wrapped in his arms and trembling violently from the shock of suddenly realizing she's falling so far away from the ground, along with the many injuries she has endured in this short amount of time. Her throat still slit, she is at a great risk of losing all of her blood, no longer having her immortality to save her here…The Sadistic Tho'baan Princess no longer existing, replaced by the human she once was before this wicked world.

Drakth is brutality incarnate. Warmonger and Warlord. He kills, because he can and wills it. The Red God.

Then, his burning eyes spot the black tendrils and there is only a smirk, coward. The girl is swept up into thick arms and with a speed and ungracefulness, Drakth slams into the ground. Kneeling, with a broken leg the creature snarls as he growls and peers over his family. "..Fraulein…she is dying. Heal her; we have need of her knowledge…” His wings are tattered and bleeding as he offers the now human Faith up. And heaves with breath, tired and now in pain it is slowly that his eyes settle on Morgana and Dacian and the glowing red slowly becomes golden, with slitted pupils. Dacian now had the full focus of his father—and respect.

God he may be, but his wife is no miracle worker, and narrows her eyes at him. Leaving the side of her unconscious slave Kat makes her way towards the shivering form of the half dead girl. Watching the blood flow from her wound, and the blood already drained, she sighs. "It will be a miracle if she makes it to the surgery room. You need to take her to my lab, now. Else she will die… Or you could make her one of us and she will die anyway." Arms crossed over her chest Kat peers down at her mate and husband, and the girl she is expected to somehow save. "Dacian, take Anglia to the Master bedroom and tuck her in there. I will tend to her as soon as I am able."

The sirens attention is pulled away from Dacian as First Drakth speaks then Kat answers. She lifts her chin then murmurs gently to the young man holding her so possessively "go do as you mother bids Young Prince. I will await you on my island tomorrow," She smiles at the boy and presses against him for just a heart brat then draws back and allows him to go tend his pack as he needs to. The siren looks at the little singer and then wounded girl both then glances at the wounded warlord "Drakth, you will need blood to heal, I am not your pack but I am your ally…I have stood with yours against the dark ones, I would aide you if you permit."

The Warlord purrs in pain, "Mein Fraulein…” Wings ache, and as he stands he growls. Morgana just receives a slow bow of his head, this girl in his arms is hut a child and so naturally—The Chieftain holds her protectively. "Blood…and find Alekto. The Serpent is dying…” A great hand falls to the Blodtwulf flag on his waist and wraps it on her neck. To clot the blood with pressure.

His mother's words slowly penetrate, and Dacian turns to glance at her. The nod he gives is not seen, but required to acknowledge that he has heard and will obey. It is a gesture more for himself than for her. Yet his arm remains around the siren's waist, holding her close and reluctant to let go. Only when Morgana speaks to him directly does he finally begin to release her, his hand trailing across the skin of her lower back, tracing from hip to hip. Giving himself a shake he kneels beside his Nurse. As gently as he is able the boy gathers the frail looking Fae against his chest, holding her close as he begins to walk with her towards the tower.

Morgana moves closer to Drakth and one hand rises to brush across her naked chest. A nail rakes pearled flesh and opens a dark gash. "Drink and heal Drakth, Your pack needs you." She stands with the dark ichor of her blood trailing over one pale breast and she draws her hands away from her body in offering.

Already Kat is moving towards her lab to prepare, first aid for Anglia and surgery for the other girl. With a gesture she disperses the pair of wolves to patrol. The beasts vanish to inspect their territory and their howls can be heard for long minutes afterward.

The Warlord watches his son, and as The Chieftain is drawn to by naked breasts—his vicious teeth snatch out to close over that wound. To drink in Ancient's blood and with each droplet of blood he takes his flesh and bones reknit and regrow. Morgana is nearly pushed away, so he stops himself and that icy blood cools him. Quenches him, and makes him level-headed. "Thank you, Morgana. Come." Then, The Warlord joins his wife and lover with Faith's broken form.

As Drakth's teeth sink into her flesh the sirens eyes close and a soft hiss spills from her. She offers not push or pull, meerly stands offering what the warlord needs to heal. Her blood holds the chill of the sea, the ancient taint of Nox itself and that settling cold that cools the fires, not fully certainly but enough that the mind within the monster is able to function. When Drakth draws back she nods at his thanks then looks toward the beach "where there is one dark one there are others. I will go and watch while you work to heal the singer and the girl. I will call if something comes." The siren moves off then, hips rolling as she makes her way to the sea to open herself to the movement of the waters and any coming along them toward the island here.

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