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Post by Cindralic on Mar 20, 2008 17:05:01 GMT -5
Cindralic saw that his first cut to Arai’s shoulder had been successful and he heard a tendon snap in her body. She would regenerate because she was a werewolf; however, with a substantial injury like the one he had just given her, it would take her body long after this fight was over to completely heal. This meant that she would have a distinct disadvantage now that she didn’t have the use of one of her arms. Cindralic cursed to himself when she moved out of the way from his blow to her leg. That would have easily ended this fight. Arai, though try as she might, would not have been able to stand on her two feet and would simply have been a toppling mass of fur, anger and spit. Cindralic would have ended her quickly. If he had struck her leg then she would most certainly have not been able to attack him in the manner she attempted. Cindralic saw her leaping towards him and charging in anger, hate, adrenaline and any other emotion that caused human beast alike to do stupid things. Every werewolf that Cindralic had ever encountered attempted to do what Arai was trying. She might have changed the method a bit, but overall, it stayed as a head on assault with no concern for their momentum. Cindralic loved the fact that he had two options to kill her. He could simply move to the side and she could fly past him and over the edge of the building. She was surely died if she toppled the many stories that they were in the air. Cindralic second option was the option that he chose to employ. Cindralic moved his sword forward in a graceful movement and moved it outwards. She would simply run right into it with her momentum. Her limp body would slide down the cool blade and stop her without Cindralic really haven’t to worry about a thing. sh*t! He couldn’t kill her. Cindralic had forgotten that he was not on a mission of death, but of recon. If he killed Arai then it would be contrary to his mission and Cindralic could not allow that. Cindralic had been so caught up with the fight that he had temporarily forgotten. By the time Cindralic realized, the most he could do was pull up his sword and start to jump. He started his leap, not thinking to teleport. Arai struck him, but only got his legs and not his lower torso. Cindralic wondered if she was trying to get him into a situation that she dominated. It didn’t matter because Cindralic would not allow that. As he toppled down Arai’s furry back, he finally thought to teleport and after he did, he reappeared in front of Arai instead of behind her. He stood, his sword in hand, Arai, still running at him as this happened so very quickly. Cindralic would take her down now. He moved his sword in a slanted downwards strike towards her right shoulder. Cindralic would have more than enough power to cut down enough to her heart. Would such a strike kill her? Probably not, but it would slow her down and both of her arms would be worthless to her. She would be easy to defeat then. Cindralic blamed himself for having to come up with a secondary form of attack because it was his fault that he had forgotten that he was not supposed to kill her. A foolish mistake that he rarely made and would not make again.
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Post by Arai on Mar 20, 2008 19:16:25 GMT -5
For the first time Arai had seen indescision in the vampire. His sword had gleamed darkly in front of her, but then he changed his mind, opting to jump instead. It was most confusing. He could have killed her, but yet he didn't. Instead he took care to keep her alive. His legs were within her grasp, and she made sure to tear at them as much as she could. But her sharp claws did not debilatate him in the least. He was too quick, too slippery for her to get a good grip. His chilly weight pressed on her back, but it was no matter at all. Her strength seemed boundless, and now that her anger was fully grown she would not be defeated easily. But there was still a matter than confused her. Why had he not killed her? He had seemed intent upon it earlier. Was there more to this than a simple attack? It could not be a move from the entire vampire army, for she was not a major player in this deadly game. But why else would he not kill her? Did he wish to capture her for some reason? She dared not think what awaited her in the possession of vampires. The Lycan Mother, Alena, had been captured. But she was strong; she was a master. Arai was not even a year into her new life. She didn't think she could stand up to the tortures that awaited her. Why was it her they chose?
As these thoughts pumped through her racing brain, Arai realized that the weight was gone. Had he gone? But no, within a millisecond of that thought his evil face appeared in front of her again, startling her a bit. Instinctively she reached to swipe him away. A sharp weight split her arm muscles all the way up to her shoulder. Blood spilled like water to the concrete, darkening her already cinnamon colored fur to a near black under the glimmer of the night sky. Her pink tongue hung out, her glistening fangs snapping, wanting to rip him apart. Both arms now hung limply, her right arm gushing lifeblood. Even a werewolf had limitations, and she knew her blood was draining fast. Her left arm still burned, pain throbbing up her neck and in her chest. But she still charged him, desperate to do anything to fight back. Blood splattered over the concrete, splashing in large drops to pool in warm sticky puddles on the cold lifeless roof. Her pale amber eyes were wide and full of fight borne of fear. Arai did not fight often, but when she did she would fight to the breaking point, for these situations were often for her life. She knew that losing would be devastating for her, would be a debilatating blow to the already nervous lycan pack.
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Post by Cindralic on Mar 21, 2008 8:12:57 GMT -5
When Cindralic felt the warm blood from Arai’s shoulder spray onto his face and his body, he knew that he had won the battle. Arai would not be able to go on much longer with both of her arms just hanging limply by her sides. His latest cut had struck her deep and not just her arm was affected. Cindralic did not know how much of her body would be affected by her most recent wound, but he guessed her lung would also be troubled. Cindralic couldn’t help but smirk had his good fortune and his own skill. He was a highly effective killer and Arai was learning that. The only reason that he had not dealt more damage to her was because he didn’t know how dead or alive Victor wanted her. Arai was still biting at him as she began to fall and she got a good chomp on his hip. Cindralic snarled and brought his elbow down o her head before he back away from her teeth and her mouth. He wondered if this girl would turn back into her human form before or after she was caught? It would probably be after. Cindralic moved behind the immobile werewolf and truly made her immobile as he slashed both her legs along the tendons with a swift shift to his right and a motion of his hand. She would not longer be really able to move at all. Cindralic no longer had any need for his sword now and it left his hand just as it had come. The sword dissipated into a cloud of dark mist and then was seemingly blown away by the wind. Cindralic did not need it to finish with this crippled werewolf. Usually this was when a vampire would begin to monolog, but Cindralic had absolutely no need to do that. Why would he give this werewolf the time of day after he had so easily defeated her? At this moment, Cindralic half wanted the rest of her pack to come for her. He almost wanted to fight an overwhelming majority of werewolves. He would more than just stand his ground. Cindralic had a d**n good chance of actually winning. Cindralic stood over Arai, looming there, the dark presence of his being just engulfing the air, choking out any life and goodness. There was no mercy in Cindralic’s heart as he looked at the struggling beast. There was no pity, no remorse. Cindralic did not see werewolves as deserving his pity or mercy. They all deserved to die and he trusted that this one would die in the hands of Victor. If Victor did not plan to kill her, Cindralic certainly would. Cindralic walked calmly over to his cloak, avoiding Arai’s claws and teeth. Once he reached his cloak he moved back towards Arai as he wrapped it around himself. He took out what looked like two wires. They were steel wires wrapped with a silver lining. Initially they were not too incredibly strong and a werewolf could possibly break them. It was the silver that made them dangerous to a werewolf. No werewolf could break them because of the silver.
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Post by Arai on Mar 21, 2008 11:30:00 GMT -5
Air rasped deeply in and out of the wolf's throat, her furred chest heaving in and out, forcing life giving oxygen through her lungs. The blow had not cut her lungs, but still her right lung was heavily bruised and sore. Every breath hurt, pressing on her chest like a hundred pound weight. The vampire moved around her then. There was so much blood, all over her, all over him, all over the rooftop. Arai sensed rather than saw him, felt the chilly slice across her legs and snarled again in pain. Her being pulsed with it, throbbed with the sharp pains, could not heal fast enough to relieve it. Struggling to stand, she found she could not. Her arms were nearly useless, and yet she still managed to lift herself for a minute before collapsing again. The blood puddle seeped through her fur, sticky and thick, quickly cooling in the night air. He still stood there; she could smell the death on the wind. Purposeful footsteps moved near her, and again Arai struggled to attack, to hurt him. She knew she had struck some sort of blow, for the strange cold death feeling has resonated through her ripping teeth. But unlike her, he could still move.
A black cloak in front of her moved, shifting around as he picked it up. Her snapping muzzle bit at him, claws flexing convulsively as she tried desperately to reach him. If she could not stand, she would attempt to bring him down. There was nothing wrong with her jaws, and she would relish a chance to sink her teeth deep into his skin, grinding through muscle and bone. Anything that would cause him pain, pain like she was experiencing. Don't come, don't come! was the only desperate thought she sent to the den. The other wolves would only make things worse. He would kill them, no doubt, and their howls of pain would only hurt her more. Frothy bubbles, stained pink with blood, formed around the corners of her mouth as her snapping jaws tried desperately to reach him, to bite him. Paws scrabbled stonily on the concrete as Arai attempted to force her debilatated legs to move. But the tendons would not respond. His cuts went deep. Healing would not come in seconds or even minutes. A flash of silvery metal in the glint of the stars caught her eyes, and she wondered what new brutality he would inflict upon her. No doubt he had come prepared. Silver was her enemy just as much as he was. The pretty metal burned like fire. Desperately she tried again to attack him, collecting all her strength in one last lunge. Her left arm, healed more than the others, propelled her movement, pushing her upright as she launched herself at him, just snapping and tearing in a last ditch attempt to repel him.
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Post by Cindralic on Mar 23, 2008 22:39:08 GMT -5
Well, at least this werewolf still had a dying breath. She was still trying to attack him, even though she clearly had been beaten and Cindralic had clearly defeated her. She flew at him one more time with her last effort and last ounce of strength. Cindralic was not beyond expecting this. He decided to spite and mock her in her last attempt. As she lunged at him, Cindralic simply took a small step back, just an inch away from her grasping claws and snapping jaws. Cindralic had not intention of letting her get one last laugh and one last strike at him. It would not be fatal to him, but it was more about mocking this werewolf than actually trying to stay alive. Cindralic watched as she collapsed in front of him. Cindralic knew that her last lunge was all she had left. Her snapped tendons and her injuries would simply prevent her from doing too much more. She would not die because of her injuries, but for the moment she would be restrained from striking Cindralic. Once Cindralic placed his silver restrains on her she would not be able to move at all. Cindralic couldn’t help but smirk at his own success. It was not like he hadn’t planned it this way because he had. So many times Cindralic’s opponents tried to get him off guard, get him away from his game plan. Cindralic never deviated from his plan, never was caught off guard. That was mainly because when Cindralic went into any fight, he always made sure to take everything into account. Cindralic made sure that he measured all of his variables, all the possibilities. Cindralic hated surprises unless he incited them. Cindralic was good at trapping his victims and their friends. This was one of the reasons that Cindralic was ready for Arai’s friends to come to her aid. He wished that they did. He wanted some blood tonight, some real blood from dead enemies. Cindralic looked down at the ground and saw the blood from Arai’s body. He longed to lean down and drink it. Once he had her restrained he most certainly would drink her blood in earnest. Cindralic moved behind Arai, striking her in the face with his heavy boot as he did. He wanted her struggling as little as possible. He then, with a quick and efficient movement, wrapped the silver wire around her ankles, locking them together. He would let her ankles burn for a while before he did anything else. Cindralic knelt down a few feet away from Arai. He wanted to see the pain her face. He wanted to see the agony, the pain. He wanted to see the distain and the struggle to fight through her discomfort. Cindralic loved to torture his victims were their own weaknesses. He wished he knew what Arai truly feared. He would manipulate her memories if he could. So, Cindralic knelt watching her, wanting to see her reactions, wanting to just kill her where she stood once he had received the pleasure from toying with her. There was a maniacal look on his face, one of cold and merciless pleasure that came from a murderous butcher of a man that clearly, possessed no heart.
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Post by Arai on Mar 23, 2008 23:14:21 GMT -5
Her attempt failed, all Arai could do was lay on the pavement, gasping for the next snarling breath. He came closer, closer to her bleeding body. No doubt he wanted to kill her, drink her blood. She had heard that vampires enjoyed lycan blood more than human blood. Something about there being added strength or extra flavor. She could not resist him if he did try to kill her. This was a much worse situation than when she had been brualized by the human resistance. For one thing, they did not try to drink her blood. Well, then again, she had not had any chance to fight back against their bats and knives. Her wrists had been completely restrained. Still, this was a much worse situation. A heavily shodden boot connected with her face, breaking a few teeth and drawing more blood. A short yelp issued from her throat, but then she subsided into a painful silence. No one had come to rescue her; hopefully no one had noticed her absence. Hopefully no one had noticed her howl of agony. They would surely die against this opponent. He was wrapping something, the silver something, around her ankles now. The thin wire was cool for a second, then it burned violently. Her skin crawled with the feeling. Arai knew then that it was silver. The wire felt very thin, but the pure agony of the burning metal was enough to restrain her. Her light gold eyes were wide in pain, her ears pinned back, her bushy tail lashing furiously. Unable to move her arms to pull at the wire, her black claws flexed spasmodically, ripping at the concrete in a futile effort. Her nails, too, began to bleed as the rough stony surface wore them down. Frothy bubbles formed at her mouth as she whimpered and growled weakly, letting out a short bark of pain every once in a while when she couldn't hold it back any longer. To someone listening it would sound as if someone were kicking and beating a puppy. In lycan time, she was just that. At barely a year old, she was but a pup compared to the older lycans. Why, then, did she get captured? She had not been a major player in this game. Was it because she knew the top security codes for the den? But how could they know that? It was a twisted world she now lived in, a strange life she was thrust into. Arai barely saw the evilly grinning vampire, her conquerer, crouching there like a demonic carnivore, just watching. Writhing in a pool of her own dark blood, her fur matted from the sticky substance, she was a pitiful sight to behold. And yet there was still something noble about the thick ruff, the small pointed ears, the slender snout. Anyone that was not a vampire would find pity and horror in the sight. As she twisted and her face contorted in agony, Arai felt very wearied. She knew that soon she would have to change back. Turning into a wolf without the aid of the full moon took a lot of energy, and right now it was energy that she didn't have. But the wolf form gave her strength, and she resolved to stay in it for as long as she could. In human form there would be no way to resist the attacks of the vampire. In human form she had no hope of survival.
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Post by Cindralic on Mar 24, 2008 17:36:25 GMT -5
Arai was indeed helpless now. She had her ankles bound by a silver restraint, one that she would not be able to remove from her now burning flesh. She gritted her teeth and whimpered from the pain. No sooner had Cindralic placed the restraints on her ankles did he restrain her paws as well, leaving her utterly and completely helpless. Even if Arai did somehow manage to heal herself before he was finished with her, she would not be able to escape. The chances of her coming out of this as the victor were none; it was inevitable that she would lose. Cindralic knelt besides her, watching the pain in her eyes, watching the agony that came from her being. Such a sight, such a beautiful sight only pleased Cindralic. The only thing that he regretted about this particular engagement was that he could not kill this werewolf. He had killed all others that had opposed him, all others that had stood to fight against him, against his mighty will and his power. Cindralic came off as prideful to most people because he had control of everything that was around him. Cindralic was not someone to be taken by surprise and as such, he had every right to be confident in what was going to happen. So, Cindralic knelt, in complete control of Arai, in complete control of everything. Arai might have noticed that during this entire engagement, he had said nothing. Cindralic rarely spoke to anyone because he did not have the need and or care to converse with people. Why should he? He was better than every save Lucifer and perhaps Victor. Cindralic moved closer to Arai when he had established that she was no longer a threat to him at all. Cindralic had not brought a silver cord to muzzle her with. He didn’t need one. He knew how to handle a disabled werewolf. People often remarked that a wounded animal was more dangerous than when it was in its normal state. This situation currently, disproved that theory. Cindralic moved his hand to Arai’s shoulder and rolled her over so that she was lying on her stomach with her back facing him. He moved her legs so that they were stretched fully out behind her, still wrapped in the silver cord. Her arms could remain underneath her body for the moment. Cindralic had waited long enough to feed her. The taste of her blood on his lips was long overdue. As Cindralic neared her, moving down over the back over her, his black shards and cloak falling over her struggling body. Some people believed that this part of a vampire’s life was rather seductive and provocative. However, there was nothing seductive about what Cindralic did. He did this for his own well, his own feasting and pleasure that came with feasting. Cindralic would enjoy every moment he feasted on her warm blood. Cindralic’s actions up until this point were very calm and collected. He moved slowly and casually, up until this point. As he leaned forward, he lurched a bit, his teeth sinking deeply into the back of Arai’s shoulder right where her neck began to rise up. This was a vicious growl and it did not come from the wolf. It came from Cindralic. The hunger for blood and the exhilaration of feeding came into his being and Cindralic could no longer contain himself. If he killed her in this act then he would do so. He would find any lycan. Everything overwhelmed him with the taste of blood, the taste of a werewolf’s blood. Something about it made it sweeter, made it more invigorating. Cindralic dug his teeth deeper into her shoulder, her blood running down her matted fur, but most made its way to Cindralic as he feasted. This action would not turn her. He did not choose to pass the genes of a vampire to anyone. This was what he was waiting for; this was what he wanted all along. He wanted to feast and now he finally was.
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Post by Arai on Mar 24, 2008 19:02:18 GMT -5
Struggling, she yelped again as the silver cord bit into her wrists. Even the thick fur coating her skin could not protect her from a werewolf's one weakness. The yelping subsided into the occasional growl of pain, her eyes squeezed shut as she battled the horrible feeling. Nausea and pain mingled in her chest, causing her skin to crawl with the agony of the wounds he had inflicted. As he came closer, she coughed, retching up blood. A few teeth fell out as well, clinking to the concrete. Her tail twitched as he knelt closer, and she weakly tried to resist him as he came closer. But he was the stronger and she found herself flipped over on her stomach. The burning became a constant throb the longer the silver bound her. She could only manage to struggle a bit, much like a landed fish. He came closer to her, and his mere presence made her heart beat faster with fear. Arai's light amber eyes widened as the scent of cold death washed over her heightened senses. Her struggles increased, but still she could not flip over or resist. The feeling of the fangs sinking deep into her skin caused her to lift her head and roar in pain. Her own teeth bared, she gurgled her distaste, a few red bubbled forming at the corner of her jaw. The bushy tail lashed in anger and revulsion. She could feel the blood draining from her body, trickling down her back and shoulder. His fangs bit into her muscle, piercing her veins. Arai could feel her strength leaving her, her head spinning with the dizziness of blood loss. Wearily her head thumped to the roof again, coating her muzzle in her own blood. It was beginning to congeal, making her fur clump. The air was filled with the scent of death and blood. It made her sick. She hoped he was not trying to turn her, because she had no desire to be a shunned cross breed. There were a few hybrids, she had heard, but they lived solitary, unhappy lives. But she didn't think this would turn her. From what she had heard, it took some exchange of blood between the vampire and his victim. Weak to the point of unconsciousness, her body slumped into a torpor, her breathing coming slow and rasping. But still Arai refused to leave the world of consciousness and the living. She may be the weakest physically of the pack, but she had stubbornness to make up for it. Her mind was what powered the diminutive lycan, and now it was what saved her, for if she fell into that darkness, she might never wake up again.
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Post by Cindralic on Mar 24, 2008 21:59:36 GMT -5
The blood of Arai filled all of Cindralic’s senses, all of his veins, so that no only was his blood pulsing through his body, but hers as well. Cindralic could not help but enjoy the one thing that sustained his life that kept him alive, kept him living. The adrenaline rush that came with the taking of blood was far to great to deny, far to great to refuse. Cindralic would not refuse that wish, would not refuse that lust and the power that came with the taking of blood from another being. Human’s blood was simply insufficient in comparison to werewolf’s blood. There was no mistaking this. Something about a werewolf, the strength, the bravery, the power and drive that werewolves possessed simply made them more tasteful. Cindralic had good taste when it came to blood, when it came to taking blood from his victims. Of course he was not beyond biting humans. Werewolves could be hard to come by and so Cindralic would feed on what he could. He would also feed on his own kin, vampires. Their blood was actually bitterer than humans, but sometimes, depending on Cindralic’s mood, he would bite them just the same. Cindralic couldn’t help but be animalistic towards Arai because he was in fact, an animal. He could not and really would not deny that fact. He loved that he was a spawn of the devil, had the powers of a god and the nature of a being fighting to survive. Cindralic was not fighting to survive, but merely, surviving. As he continued to bite Arai, drinking down her blood, taking the very life from her, taking the very energy from her being, he couldn’t help but remember his mission. As Cindralic bit people, he often made sure to recollect on her got to this point and why he was there, what he was doing, what his purpose was. He remembered that he was supposed to capture Arai and do nothing beyond that. Well, the nothing beyond that part was already gone. However, he did need to show at least a little bit of restraint in his biting and draining of her. He blood was so sweet and he wished that she would bring him more werewolves, more blood, more of her kin for the slaughter. As she struggled, more blood pulsed through her veins, more blood shot into Cindralic’s gaping jaws. Cindralic could easily restrain her further if he had to, easily restrain her behind the simply silver cords that held her. He could physically abuse her, as he had already done. He also could summon his weapon and that would be more than enough to put her down for good if she chose to become much more violent. Cindralic still had to move her, bring her back to the master vampire. It would be interesting to deport a werewolf because he couldn’t simply teleport around with her. It took up more energy and his strength would eventually deplete and he guessed that his strength would leave him before he reached the destination. He was going to have to conjure another means of transportation. Luckily, he had brought several of his men with him to the city. He had anticipated this problem, as he had anticipated everything else. He would find a way to transport her, even if that meant using the machines of the humans. Arai’s body slumped in darkness and was motionless. Cindralic lifted himself off of her; his feeding was paused for the moment. He needed to not kill her this time. Victor needed her for something. Cindralic walked to the rooftop and looked out. One of his vampires saw him and went to gather the others. She would be coming with him soon.
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Post by Arai on Mar 25, 2008 12:10:21 GMT -5
Draining rapidly of the life sustaining blood, Arai's body began to react. The mind sometimes took over a person, did what had to be done to keep them alive. Her life was in danger; her body would respond accordingly. All the while he was drinking her dry, the silver burning into her flesh, Arai struggled to send warning to the rest of the pack, to warn them not to come. She would not have them giving their lives for her. This vampire was powerful and seemed to be an experienced fighter. Someone would die, and she did not want it to be one of the pack. She was one of them, but she was not important to the cause. She was not a true fighter. Her loss might be their gain. The war would go on without her. With every struggle she could feel the pointed tips of the vampire's fangs in her shoulder. It sickened her. As the blood flowed from her veins to his mouth, her body began to shut down. Her hands and feet felt numb, both from lack of circulation and from the cutting silver. Her flesh crawled with the feeling, her nose wrinkling with the stench of her own burning flesh. Unable to move from sheer exhaustion, Arai just lay limply on the rooftop, the dark figure sucking the very life from her. He stopped suddenly, and for a moment a flicker of the thought of hope brightened her mind. But it faded as he didn't leave, just walked to the rooftop. It would have been a prime time to escape but for the fact that her arms and legs were bound. Even if they weren't she doubted that she would have had the energy to escape. There was nowhere to escape to anyways. Her matted fur ruffling in a night breeze, her eyes closed again. The golden light that had shone from her pale amber eyes dimmed as the energy still drained out of her. The wound began to heal, slowly, but still the blood seeped from the puncture wounds. Her body took over then and did what it had to in order to survive. In analyzing the bodily functions, it decided that consciousness was not needed. Slowly she slumped into a state of torpor, her body trying frantically to heal. The arms and legs began to knit together, but the sizzling lines of silver were still wounding her deeply. As she fell into the world of darkness, her body also decided that the wolf form was not needed. The giant mass of muscle and fur shrunk down, becoming the pale body of a five foot female, her creamy skin coated in her own blood. The silver restraints, perfect for the wrists and ankles of a werewolf, were now entirely too large. The wristband slipped off, leaving two angry red burns on her wrists. Her bare body was delicate, her short red hair bright as a flame. Her stomach was covered in crisscrossing scars, small spots where she had been shot before dotting her skin. She could not escape, being unconscious as she was, and just lay there, her body healing itself as fast as it could.
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Post by Cindralic on Mar 25, 2008 21:30:55 GMT -5
Cindralic had not yet turned to face Arai when she turned from her werewolf form back into her more petite woman form. It fit her better. Arai did not come off as the werewolf type. Usually werewolves, or at the least the ones that Cindralic had encountered where rogues, always alone, always filthy, always keeping to the shadows. In that way, they were much like vampires. The lesser vampires always thought that they were powerful enough to last on their own. So many of them never really were. They always tried to take on too many people and then a slayer would come calling. At that point, they would be killed and then they were just like the rest of the vampires that couldn’t hack it, just dust blown away by the wind. Cindralic hated the fact that most vampires were stupid. There were the obvious exception in Victor and the other masters. However, the other masters were direct victims of Victor and thus catered too and made to be strong, not just sent out into the streets to kill and thus be killed. Vampires had to relish and practice; hone their skills before they became truly powerful. Vampires so often thought themselves to be invincible and without flaw. This was simply not true as everyone and everything has some flaw, ill design or impudence. Cindralic faced Arai now, looking at her naked body, still bleeding, still mingled from the fight. There was nothing attractive about this woman now; not with the blood and the mingled form of her body and limbs. Cindralic knew that she would regenerate and heal soon enough. Four vampires walked a small room that the stairs occupied. They had with them a stretcher that had restraints on it. Cindralic didn’t have to tell them what to do because if they didn’t already know then he would simply kill them and do it himself. The four vampires walked over to Arai and moved her body so that it was on the stretched. Then they moved the silver straps over her body, holding her in place on the stretcher. They didn’t know when she would wake and they didn’t want to fight a werewolf, not without the aid of Cindralic. Cindralic would not come in contact with Arai again until Victor willed it or Cindralic had some urge to see her. He doubted both of those possibilities and more the latter than either. Cindralic walked to the edge of the roof as a squad car passed beneath them. Cindralic simply walked off the roof. Cindralic’s men carried Arai down the stairs and then cautiously brought her outside to the back of an armored vehicle. How they managed to get their hands on a Brinks truck, no one really knows. It wasn’t like Arai was conscious enough to ask any questions anyway. Two men inside the back opened the door and the stretched was slid inside. This was no ordinary truck. The walls were lined with silver and in the truck were two small air vents that could pump out airborne silver product that would slow and possibly kill a werewolf. Such a device had yet to be tested. All six men moved into the back of the vehicle, three on each side of the stretcher. One man tapped the back of the wall and the truck started up. The men looked back and forth at one another as they watched Arai, making sure that she didn’t wake up, making sure that she didn’t try to kill them all. It was unlikely that she could because of all the silver in the truck, but they would not underestimate her, even if she did look rather pitiful at the moment.
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Post by Arai on Mar 25, 2008 22:28:39 GMT -5
Lost in a world of pain and cold, all Arai could do was lay there, helpless. Her mind went to a place where it was safe, sheltered from whatever her body was going through. It was a survival mechanism that had been around since the beginnings of time. As she lay there, bloody and mangled, completely limp, her body began to knit itself back together. No bones were broken, making it easier to heal, but still there was severe muscle damage. Deep inside, her veins were beginning to stitch themselves together, the blood beginning to ebb as it was contained in her circulation system. Her consciousness, still too weak to show itself, burrowed deeper into her mind, refusing to come out. Arai's blood began to regenerate, her heart steadily pumping it through the healing veins and arteries. The muscle fibers grew stronger, the filaments stretching out and connecting the wounds. The deep cuts started to scab over. Despite her healing body, as she was lifted off the pavement her blood still coated her skin. It began to dry where she had lain, congealing into a dark puddle. On her skin it began to dry, becoming scabby and crusty. Arai was coated in a layer of the substance, her hair matted with it, her arms and legs dripping it. She was primarily horrific to look at, her skin pale as driven snow against the blackening blood. Her wrists and ankles burned with the silver restraints, preventing those areas from healing as she lay in a state of torpor, her mind just waiting for the body to heal enough to function. At this point there was nothing she could do to stop them, to resist her capture. It was a bleak situation for the young woman, very bleak indeed, and were she awake she would be cast into despair. As she lay there, strapped down and surrounded by enemies, Arai could do nothing at all. Her mind would not let her, and so she stayed still, consciousness evading her.
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