Hunting the Hounds (invitation only)
The Wolf stroked his pet's ears, muttering little nothings to the animal before rising to his full height and regarding the wolves in front of him. He was not as close to the other two as he was to the one he had petted, The Alpha, but The Alpha listened to him, and the others listened to the Alpha, and that was good enough for The Wolf's purposes.
He considered for a moment what he should do now, knowing that the Heir and his companion were following him. Lay a trap in the sewers? That would likely be effective, but he would have to make quick work of it lest he be walked in on, and The Wolf was not interesting in being quick. No, he thought; he would lead them to a place where he could take his time.
They should be honored, really; few were lucky enough to see The Wolf's lair.
Of course, they wouldn't live to tell about it.
With a single gesture, he began making his way through the tunnels of the sewer, heading homeward.
He had thought that he would have something to say in this moment, something appropriate and profound about life and death and justice, but found he was mostly biting back any number of flip remarks. Perhaps the false bravado extended even to his subconscious, and Thaddeus wondered if it could really be considered false in such an instance, when faced with the facts of who you were.
He was going to kill his brother. And he was not sorry.
Such things were useful to know, though Thaddeus personally felt he could do without the experiences that brought him that sort of knowledge.
[Let's go.]
He opened up the book of matches and ripped one out, prepared to strike.
[Ready?]
His wolf lowered his head, sniffing the ground, and The Wolf gave him a mental rebuke when he scratched lazily at his ear.
The Alpha rested his paw back on the ground and refrained from further fidgeting, though he continued to sniff at the air. Though The Wolf was slightly annoyed by the show of impatience in his pet, it also served as a reminder to remain still himself.
And remain still he did, resisting the temptation to run a finger along his blade or worse, check to see if the ring was still in his pocket.
He smiled faintly as Natt and the others cawed to each other around him, sensing their intentions and emotions, he wondered what Thaddeus would think of being considered a part of the family to the crows... A dove amongst crows.
When Thaddeus pulled out the match,Natt hopped to the shoulder away from the mace and watched curiously. Alfarinn held it somewhat away but within reach of his companion.
[Yes, Beloved. Quite ready.]
Thaddeus would just have to forgive him for breaking Grey Family rules.
With that, he struck the match against the back of the book, being careful to hold it away from himself.
It burned out almost immediately.
[Well. That's embarrassing.]
The second match, whether due to the fact that his hands were shaking a little less or simply a bit of luck with the wind, stayed lit, and he dropped it neatly onto the mace, taking a step back as the flames wrapped themselves all around the shirt.
Feeling he made a considerably less intimidating sight than his companion, spear in one hand and flaming mace in the other, surrounded by crows and looking, in this moment, not a little dangerous, Thaddeus nonetheless wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, pulling it neatly over his shoulder. He could believe that the strength of eight generations of Greys resided in that blade in that moment; Via Veritas seemed almost alive with the sense of his father. Overlaying that was something both familiar and strange and it took him a moment to realize that he was as much ingrained in this weapon as those who wielded it before him; perhaps more so.
Now, however, was not the time to get caught up in memories or become sentimental about a weapon of all things. Instead, he resumed walking, slipping the matchbook into his pocket and feeling for the stunner as he moved.
[Smoke.]
Ah. Curious. That could mean anything or nothing; they were in a city and smoke could come from anywhere. Even so, he thought it best to take his pet's concern under advisement. He trusted that The Alpha would remember himself and obey his orders over his own instincts, but it may require more concentration on his part to keep his pet focused. Perhaps a swifter death would be best for these two.
Pulling the ring out of the inside pocket of his cloak, he shrugged off the garment, letting it fall to the ground with a whisper. He resisted the temptation to continue examining the ring, instead pushing it deeply into his pant's pocket.
Moving forward slowly, he tightened his grip on the mace when they got almost to the area that the wolves had been seen. They were still there waiting patiently, their master was not able to be seen but the little green blip had shown him standing here as well. Alfarinn hoped that the Wolf had not moved in the short time it took them to put away the GPS and go forward.
That was about all the time he had to hope, as the wolves moved forward, obviously as intent on him as he was on them. So it would seem the Wolf did plan to personally deal with Thaddeus. Alfarinn's own plan was to make that battle not happen alone and that meant dispatching the canines as quickly as possible.
[Be careful]
He spoke to Natt and the others.
[Harass, blind or confuse but don't stay long enough to get caught.]
He knew they understood this plan well enough, it was they're preferred method of dealing with those that would threaten their young. Being dive bombed by one crow was harrowing enough experience in some cases but three or so was a menace to be reckoned with. Thaddeus once said he came with his own army and while Alfarinn doubted this is what his companion had meant, he smiled with grim satisfaction that Natt and his kin were very able little soldiers.
((OOC: Wolves moved with permission))
Would it be swift and brutal? Slow and painful? Would they speak? What would they say?
Killing was an artless act, or at least that was Thaddeus's experience. There was no poetry to it, no grace; it was something stripped bare and stark, and he felt it was a waste of time to attempt to come up with some question or statement for The Wolf when they finally met. There would be no grandstanding, no exchange of banter as though they were merely engaged in a gentleman's duel and wit cut as deeply as the sword.
It was with such thoughts in mind that he approached the wolves, who moved as one toward Alfarinn. The Wolf was not in sight, and Thaddeus walked forward cautiously, wondering if his enemy had moved since he last looked.
Knowing he could not risk turning to look Alfarinn's way at his companion's reminder, he kept walking, though he sent his own caution in return.
[I will be; you be careful too.]
He set his jaw, realizing that he would be entirely missing the point of the plan if he did not continue walking.
The Wolf smelled the smoke before he saw the pair approach, though it was a near thing. He observed for a moment, taking in the sight of the Heir and his heavily armed companion before ordering his wolves to approach but not attack just yet. They did as they were bid, walking toward the tall one with fur bristling and teeth bared.
He scowled at the sight of the crows, realizing they were clearly friendly with the tall one and not a good omen at all. There was not all that much time to think about that though; The Heir was coming closer. He wondered for a moment just how much The Heir's companion might mean to him if he was that willing to leave the tall one to the wolves; anyone who took The Supplanter at his word was likely a great fool, and he wondered if he was being played. Deciding that it cost him nothing to kill the tall one save perhaps his pets, who were an acceptable loss, he gave his orders, realizing that at best The Heir would suffer greatly at his companion's death, and at worse there would be another dead vampire to add to his tally.
[Do not fear the fire. Ignore the birds. Wait for word, spare the throat until your master commands it.]
That said, he watched as The Heir came closer. The boy looked even younger up close, and The Wolf could not help but feel disgust for his maker, changing this youth into a monster, before his twisted hatred for The Heir consumed him once more. He did not consider the sword much of a problem.
Closer.
[Attack!]
Further ahead, he heard The Alpha let out an eerie howl before they struck. The Alpha obeyed his orders perfectly, lunging for the tall one, but while the others were somewhat focused on the attack, they were also snarling and snapping angrily at the antagonizing birds and shying away from the fire whenever it got too close.
[Ignore the birds!]
That was all he would have time for at the moment; The Heir was nearly close enough now. The Wolf dropped his blending and closed the remaining distance between himself and The Heir with impossible speed, swiping with his clawed hand as he moved and bringing his short curved sword around.
Where was he?
Ever step forward was more difficult, especially hearing the sounds of engagement behind him. What if The Wolf had decided to leave his companions to do his bidding and was now long gone? It would be absurdly overconfident, but there was always the chance that he had seen them and decided this battle was better fought another day. Even that did not make sense...The Wolf should be here, he should be standing right...
A flash of blue eyes was his only warning before The Wolf lunged. His enemy was faster than Thaddeus would have believed, but his own arm moved more quickly than his mind, blocking the arc of the sword with his own.
That did, unfortunately, leave him open to the claw, and he registered a searing pain in his shoulder before stepping back. He was reasonably certain he had only been clipped and it could have been much worse, but as the two brothers circled each other, it became clear that The Wolf was not trying.
[I'm fine. He's toying with me. Tell me you're alright.]
Thaddeus never took his eyes off The Wolf, though he wondered what in God's name the vampire was playing at. His brother wanted him dead, and Thaddeus saw little point in these games, but it served to keep The Wolf engaged at least.
Even so, it should have been painful. It should have brought fear into The Heir.
The Heir did not look particularly afraid; in fact, his expression never changed, and that was somewhat irritating. Perhaps some admitted skill with the blade made the boy overconfident.
Wanting to glean some sort of a reaction from the boy, The Wolf half spoke, half growled:
"A Wolf has wondered what became of The Bitch's last mistake."Â? He swiped with his clawed hand almost mockingly before he continued. "A mistake remedied easily enough...in due time."Â?
The crows were doing an admirable job and Alfarinn was happy to note they stayed away from the snapping mouths as asked, They were diving and pecking at the wolves with the practiced precision of an avian squadron that was used to harassing larger animals away from its nests. Still one crow got too close, and there was a snap of fangs clamping shut on fragile bones. Alfarinn felt the pain of the bird as it fell, wing injured. It was nearly trampled underfoot by the wolf that caught it but he had time to be thankful that they were disciplined enough to continue focusing on him instead of stopping to eat the injured animal on the ground.
[Move away, get to safety.]
The bird was having difficulty hopping and flapping with the good wing but managed to move away from the fighting. The rest of the murder was made more angry by their kin's injury and Alfarinn could sense that the intent to distract had become something more serious. This was no longer a game of taunt to them.
His main focus was on the large canine in front of him. The lead wolf lunged for him steering just clear of the mace that was holding off one of the more timid of its companion's. It's leap placed it in the center of Alfarinn's chest and though this did not topple him as it would a human, he was spun around with the force of the blow. The alpha sank his teeth into his upper arm and Alfarinn brought the torch around without thinking, searing it in the mid section.
This action unfortunately left him open to the wolf that he had been holding at bay, who upon hearing the yelp of the alpha, lunged at Alfarinn's back.
He sensed Thaddeus's pain and longed to look up and check on him despite being in pain himself. The message was therefore a blessing.
[Oh, nothing a few rabies shots won't cure. Don't worry about me.]
It wasn't likely to happen any more than he would stop worrying about Thaddeus but he could hope that his companion at least believed him alright and could continue focusing on the danger to himself. He realized the bond between them could be both a help and a hindrance in this case. Alfarinn had experience fighting while feeling those he cared about hurt and afraid, though it had been a long time since he'd fought beside someone that he was bonded to and felt he couldn't live without, it was still not a total shock for him. For Thaddeus being able to feel his lover's emotions was something of a new experience and he hoped his pain did not become too much of a distraction. Alfarinn thought for a moment about using his abilities to hide his emotions or change them to dampen the pain and alarm he was sending and portray a more calm air to his companion but he felt that even know he should simply be honest with Thaddeus and trust him to be okay with that. Somewhere, in some deep part of his mind not dealing with fur and fangs, Alfarinn felt that if this should be their last moments together it should not hold any falseness despite its unpleasant nature. They started in truth and he would end that way be it now or centuries from now but preferably the later.
It seemed, however, that The Wolf had no wish for this to be over any time soon. Thaddeus inclined his chin sharply but chose not to expend his energy on a retort to his opponent's comments; if he wanted to spend his last moments insulting their maker that was his look out and said a great deal more about him than about Emma. Instead, he took in the way The Wolf moved, his stance, his grip on the curved blade...
Recognition struck suddenly, and he had a split second to realize just how sick and twisted this walking monster really was before he was moving, closing in, feinting, striking. The Wolf had incredible speed and reach on his side, and their blades crashed with almost painful force as his thrust was blocked.
Well...mostly blocked, though in this case mostly was enough; blood seeped out of a wound to The Wolf's upper arm, but the injury appeared superficial.
There was no time to think about that, though; already Thaddeus was moving again, this time fending off The Wolf's clawed hand with his sword and tilting his head up and away from the four blades that missed his face by centimeters as the strike went wide. He was barely quick enough to block the strike from the curved sword and struggled to keep his center of gravity against the onslaught.
No sound, in Thaddeus's mind, could quite match that of an animal, not howling or barking but -screaming-, and an involuntary shudder passed through him as the sound of a wounded wolf ripped through the air.
He found himself hoping that the sound indicated at least one wolf was incapacitated.
The pain of his wolf was suddenly much more immediate than any injury he might have received, and he tried to pull back to focus on his pet for a moment, but found The Heir was occupying more of his attention than he had any right to. He had time to grunt in satisfaction as one of the others in the pack attacked, but he was still frustrated and annoyed at The Heir's resilience and his pet's apparent injury.
[Avenge yourself. Rip his throat out.]
Then, as though his hatred had grown too strong for the distance of fighting with swords, he moved closer, throwing his weight behind his thrust and slamming his opponent hard into a parked vehicle. The Heir was clearly winded, but The Wolf did not give him time to catch his breath, instead pinning him to the hood of the car and forcing his head to one side with his gloved hand, the blades arcing across the boy's face.
The better to see what was happening to his companion.
He curled back his upper lip and felt his fangs lengthen.
Standing up quickly and arching himself backwards in one movement, Alfarinn threw himself onto his back landing on the second wolf pinning him to the ground.
The crows had stopped harassing the alpha when he got too close to Alfarinn and they turned their attention instead onto the third wolf, seemingly to be doing an admirable job of keeping it thoroughly occupied and mostly surrounded. Perhaps at some later point when this was all over, he might be somewhat amused to learn that they decided to add bombing to their harassment in the form of droppings aimed at the poor bedeviled canine's head. The birds had judged this technique a safer method of blinding than trying to get close enough to peck at the vulnerable eyes which were too close to the not so vulnerable mouth.
The one underneath him, though pinned was not very injured by the maneuver of his and was scrambling and scraping to get out from under him. Alfarinn was pondering just how to get a weapon into it without letting it get back to its feet when the alpha, not so injured as he thought, lunged onto his chest with a snarl, bared its fangs and went for his throat.
One of the wolves seemed to be struggling to recover and stand after some injury that Thaddeus could not make out through the blades across his face, while another was turning wildly, snapping blindly at the crows, though they were staying too high for the wolf to reach them. The third was on Alfarinn's back, and Thaddeus felt his muscles twitch in alarm when Alfarinn launched backwards and landed on top of his writhing foe.
The panic he felt was a distant thing, a realization that things were slipping completely out of control, a halt to his heartbeat, a growl that had, surprisingly enough, come from his own throat. He dropped his sword without a thought, knowing this close up that particular weapon would do no good, and went for his pocket where the stunner still rested. The Wolf kicked the weapon aside, but the movement was not quite enough to provide an opening; he seemed to be everywhere at once, being far bigger than Thaddeus, older and stronger and more adept at this sort of thing. Thaddeus had time to register that the injured wolf had managed to get back on his feet before he felt The Wolf's weight shift, opening up a little space between them and freeing his head as the blades trailed down to his throat.
He rolled into the blades out of efficiency rather than any thought toward doing something The Wolf wouldn't expect, and while he certainly felt it, he managed to not self inflict too much damage as he gripped the stunner. The collar, he realized, was in the way. Not bothering to pull the weapon out of his pocket, he pressed the stunner against The Wolf's thigh and jammed down on the button, praying that he wouldn't end up stunning himself and that the weapon would work through two layers of fabric.
It worked well enough to buy a split second, knocking The Wolf a few feet away and giving him a bit of a pause. It was not much time, and had Thaddeus been thinking ahead he might have had a well thought out plan for those precious seconds, but he had been unsure of what exactly would happen next and very nearly unable to think at all. The fact that Alfarinn was in trouble screamed through his mind in an odd litany. He did not even consider doing anything other than yanking the knife out from under his sleeve and crouching low, flinging the blade to the side, hearing it skitter down the street.
That was the second weapon he had relinquished in the past minute, or second; Thaddeus could not tell, but was more concerned with the fact that Alfarinn probably needed the knife more than him.
In any case, he had every intention of getting his sword back.
He stayed low as The Wolf rushed at him, managing to send one last succinct thought Alfarinn's way before the inevitable collision.
[Knife, on your left.]
Even better.
The Heir's struggles were entirely ineffective, even when his other hand released the sword and moved in an attempt to get some space between them. There was no chance of the boy pushing him off; The Wolf was far too big and strong for that. He could distantly sense the struggles of his pets, though he was too focused on his own prey to glean anything specific.
That ridiculous collar around The Heir's neck would have to go. While The Wolf understood the significance of such accessories well enough, he had no idea what the boy's motivations had been in wearing it and didn't much care; he just wanted the damn thing out of his way. Sure, he could kill The Heir easily enough whether it was there or not, but some room to work with was never a bad thing.
He dragged his bladed hand across The Heir's face, leaving a trail of shallow red cuts, before moving to his throat and attempting to slip one blade under the collar. The boy shifted suddenly, into the blades rather than away from them as The Wolf would have expected, and the next minute he was flung back by some invisible force, dazed by the unexpected blow. He came around quickly enough, though, and had time to register that The Heir appeared to have flung a knife to his companion.
A foolish choice, really, and one that The Heir would pay dearly for. While he realized that the boy had some sort of stunning weapon, right now he was crouched down, empty handed and totally defenseless. Even so, getting too close was a mistake The Wolf would not make again.
The Wolf charged, pulling back his sword and swinging as he moved. The curved blade swung down in an unstoppable arc, slicing through the air toward the boy's vulnerable neck.
The wolf was still moving and was now quite enraged though it would probably die of that wound if given the chance but it was still very much a danger. The alpha had been shoved away from his throat though so that was a blessed reprieve. The second wolf was nearly free from underneath him, Alfarinn could feel it sliding out from under his back, only the hind legs left beneath his shoulders, a few seconds more and it would be able to turn on him as well.
Thaddeus's knife came skidding across the ground to land within reach of his left hand, letting go of the spear, Alfarinn felt around for it, not taking his eyes off the wolf. He was reluctant to use the torch so close to his own exposed face, as vampires were more flammable that wolves, especially bleeding ones and he was certainly doing that.
[Thank you]
Alfarinn's hand found, well the blade, but the minor cut from grasping it was ignored in his haste to get to the hilt. Once he had it firmly in hand, Alfarinn brought this up under the wolf's jaw that had been moving, though awkwardly once more for towards his already gnawed throat, the butt of the spear,caught under Alfarinn's arm, being somewhat in its way.
The second dog pulled free and he quickly shoved the lead dog off of him and rolled to the side in hopes of getting back to his feet before the second one attacked again.
It was then that he looked up and saw the Wolf's blade coming towards Thaddeus's neck.
[Thaddeus!]
Shifting, for the most part, was for Thaddeus a somewhat instinctive and unconscious act. He could change to a dove, after years of practice, by force of will alone, but it certainly helped to have a need to change, some stimulus that made the bird in him want to come out.
Thaddeus couldn't come up with a better time than right about now, as The Wolf's sword swung toward his neck, to change, and no sooner had he thought that than he was pitching forward, rolling on one shoulder as he shifted smoothly and flew right between The Wolf's legs, Alfarinn's call resounding in his mind.
In this form he could move swiftly, but he knew he could not go far lest The Wolf give up on him and go for Alfarinn, and if he stayed in this form one swipe with those claws would do him in. He turned sharply and fluttered near enough to his sword to pick it up when he changed forms. Shifting back to his human form with slightly less fluidity than his previous change, he bent to pick up his sword. The change might have confused The Wolf for a moment, but it seemed his enemy had regained his bearings and was once again approaching Thaddeus.
[I'm fine. Be careful.]
In reality he should have taken his own advice; whether through some misjudgment of the distance or The Wolf's speed brought on by multiple changes in perspective, The Wolf was on him just as he wrapped his hand around the handle of his sword, and this time there was no time to change before the claws came at him in a brutal swipe, leaving four gashes from one side of his chest to the opposite shoulder as the force of the blow knocked him backward.
If the Heir was anything like himself, he could be blending, though if that were the case the boy was a better blender than any The Wolf ever knew. Shaking that thought off as impossible, he looked around, realizing he was being made a fool of and growing all the angrier for it. A flash of white caught his eye, and realization struck.
He would have been amused by the form his prey took if not for the fact that he was so enraged he could hardly see straight, blue light dancing at the edges of his vision until all he could see was the boy crouched over his sword.
He moved with the full speed his agility offered him and struck without hesitation, sending the boy sprawling before a sudden shattering pain made him stumble.
The Alpha was no more. He felt that death in every part of him, exquisite pain tearing through his body as his connection with his pet was brutally severed. Though he could and had communicated with many wolves in his long life, never had his close kinship with a pack leader been so cleanly ripped from him, and that death was shocking and unexpected agony.
He turned his head, thinking in the back of his mind to take care of the tall one himself while The Heir was incapacitated, bleeding badly and struggling to lift himself up. While the other two wolves were mighty opponents for The Heir's companion and The Wolf could give them orders just as well, he had not established the level of trust that he had with The Alpha for these two, and they may not obey to the best of their ability, particularly when their leader was gone. Movement from The Heir, however, brought him back to his senses, reminding him not to allow what he had previously considered an acceptable loss to prevent him from doing what he had waited three hundred years to do.
Once Thaddeus was momentarily safe again, time seemed to speed back up and he remembered that there was at least one unhindered and uninjured wolf coming for him. The animal leapt at him as he tried to stand slamming him off balance and knocking him over backwards.
The wolf sank his fangs deep into Alfarinn's side and he gritted his teeth in pain as he brought the flaming mace up and across, hitting the animal squarely on the head. He wasn't sure whether the animal was dead or simply stunned but he didn't focus his attention long enough to find out.
Though he did not see the blow the Wolf dealt Thaddeus, being too busy with one of the man's canine companions at the time, he could feel it and he knew his lover was hurt and that was the most important thing. Thaddeus's pain was more clear to him even than his own and he felt a feral rage consume him. The Wolf's emotional anguish and disorientation sang through his senses and a part of him basked in the satisfaction that he had caused the man's suffering.
Standing up, he dropped the mace and pulled out the large sword, advancing on the Wolf from behind. The still blazing torch backlighting him and casting a dancing light over his target. His features were set in fierce determination and his voice was steady when he spoke, though the action of pushing air through his torn throat was painful and his voice had a grating garbled quality with a wheezing intake of breath that spoke of blood in his airways.
"Do you miss your pet?"
"Good. I think you should join him."