@Impero: (I do hope you enjoyed yourself <3 I totally did, I really like Ennoia.)
Golden boots clatter on stone streets. Grey fog swirls around a royal purple robe, like circling serpents. Pale yellow light glows weakly from struggling street lamps, reflecting in glittering golden glares and glows from her mask. The air itself tingles with sinister anticipation. The woman walks on.
A little blot of ink with a hat sees a mysterious figure, so he decides to follow behind its silent footsteps. The robe's patterns compels it to follow, Arius wishes to know where it obtains such a wonderful robe. His robe is simply plain blue without any pattern, maybe if he observes long enough he too can knit something like that.
@Regal_Rumble_Man: Golden boots carry her onward, upward. Through the twisting streets, down dim alleys, up avenues exotic in the the twilight glare of cold streetlights.
After a time those feet carry her slender figure to a building old and lonely. Vine choked gates swing open before her, exposing a courtyard occupied by an angel statue only.
Thick weeds clog the cobblestone steps, slick with dew. A great wooden door, immense and foreboding gazes down sternly upon her.
@Kratesis: He steps along on the path made by her footsteps, filing in boot marks with his small feet. Taking extended steps to prevent falling over. Treading cautiously through the nook and crannies of the roads, the dank, the smellies and the crooked.
After traveling on foot he follows her to a secluded location hidden in an old alleyway, with open gates and an open garden with an angelic statue that seems to be comprised out of sculpted marble.
He can feel foreign eyes, yet he only sees a figure in the grass. Then a giant gate of wood, and a closed door. Plus there is a gnome statue about his height.
@Regal_Rumble_Man: Kratesis folds her arms behind her back. Golden fingers intertwined in the folds of royal robes. That massive door baring her way, glaring, daring and defying her will.
Flickering lamps cast her shadow in wicked, bizarre dances upon the dim ground. It twists and jerks and flickers with the waving and weaving of the lights.
And then it stops. A stillness falls over her shadow, defying the laws of light.
With a twist it slithers, slides under the door.. and Kratesis stands in the light with no shadow at all.
Nathan set down all of his luggage on the hotel bed, yawning from the long nights that seemed to never end here in the horrific city. After changing into an orange T-shirt, he walked over to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. "It's like being trapped in a Buffy the vampire slayer episode..". After he got the pot set up to be filled with coffee, Nathan walked over to the living room table and started setting up his laptop.
He stared at the gnome as she stared at the door, his blue robe comforts him as the snuggly cotton-like material makes it impossible for any being to chafe. It is warm even in the coldest of airs, and dry in the wettest of places.
One of the lamps shone against him, strangely revealing no shadow at all, A hat floats above a robe. Yet it must be a trait of his species that arose from the bottomless pit.
Then the gnome stared awkwardly against him, it felt weird. Blank porcelain eyes that vex him.
A reflection of the wooden door appeared on the retina of the gnome, Arius turned the other way and followed to the wooden side.
A new visitor approaches Raven's Landing at night through the air, carried by a small cloud. He is wrapped in cloth from head to toe to keep his primate-like appearance hidden from the humans below. In his hand is a magical staff given to him by his master, known only to him as Dark Girl. He was directed by her to venture out from the temple ruins in which she had confined him to for the last two thousand years in order to carry out a great great mission she had tasked him with, but was advised to first gain experience and knowledge of the world he has not seen for so long. Behind the cloth wrapped over his mouth he smiles. It's good to be out again. The world has undergone many changes since he last experienced it, though. Each breath he takes is complicated by smoggy air, unknown to him that it is a product of the burning gasses dispersed from human transportation units or cars.
When he nears the city it looks quite strange to him. Everything is basic in appearance here. The humans here have built their structures straight up, some slanting into points at their apex, but none with curves ... and not much attention seems to have been put into shapes or designs. There is no creativity no ... art. This confuses him a little as he reminisces back to his old home where all structures were designed with angles and shapes in mind to inspire imagination. The humanoid primate continues to fly over the city atop of his cloud when he spots a structure that stands out from the rest. The stadium. He of course doesn't know what this structure is, or what it is for, but is rather curious so he steers his cloud in its direction and catches his first sight of human cars below, which he mistakes for mysterious metallic elephants with lanterns on their fronts and rears, as they speed through the streets. The streets are decorated with strange lights, at every intersection there are even more strange lights, ones that can change color. Some of the elephants are halted as the strange lights at the intersections turn red. Metallic elephants governed by lights? Dark Girl did say the world has changed but this is beyond change.
He continues on towards the curious structure and brings the cloud to a hover over the roof and drops down, still carrying his magical staff in hand. He calmly walks towards the center of the structure where there is a large opening for him to peer down from. The place is empty and dimly lit but a large field of grass fills the inner interior while rows of seats run across the outer interior with gaps running through the sides and corners that lead to halls and exits. A combat arena he mistakenly observed. Eye have to go down and go down he does, jumping off of the ledge and performing a flip then falling in head first with his arms tucked in to his sides. The drop from the opening on the roof to the grass below is 400 feet, a bit high, even for him, but he isn't worried. He simply adjusts himself mid air to face the opening on the roof with his hands folded behind his head then thinks Cloud, and just like that, the cloud that carried him into the city reappears on the grass underneath him in time to soften his fall. A grin cracks on his face it's been a while since eye done that. Still remaining in a lying position on the cloud with both hands clasped together behind his head he imagines the combat arena to be filled with spectators cheering him for the death defying stunt he has just performed. He will stay here until daylight then continue to learn more about the world in these new times.
@Regal_Rumble_Man: His kind response lifted some fear from her spirit. There were kind souls in this forsaken land after all, of course she was exaggerating the area. "Are you new here as well?" she asked kindly, hoping if he wasn't the young little boy would guide her across town towards the mountains so she would attend and pick a few ingredients.
"Yeah, I found this giant mutated gerbil here and so we became best friends" replied the little critter as he approaches her, "just looking for materials to make interesting spells for and I heard they have a big cauldron that can fit humans here." he intends to use it for all sorts of things, such as to make healing potions or magic napalm. So far things to benefit his group, and to make kickass porridge for breakfast.
"You can't kill me Simon, I'm already dead." Liam spoke with a raspy voice, looking down at the hilts of three silver daggers that stuck out of his chest, blackish-red blood flowing from the wounds. He looked back towards the cloaked culprit of the attack, Simon Clark, a man renowned for being a hunter of the supernatural for nearly six hundred years. The truth to this man's immortality rested within the very same power that coursed through Liam's body. Shadow Magic had been in use for centuries, the applications almost infinite in numbers. Simon had only relied on it's potential to extend his life so he could be of more service to the cause of eradicating the many different species that prowled on the innocent.
Another silver dagger pierced Liam's chest just above the others, the tip of the blade puncturing his heart. The Wolf of Shadows took a few steps back from the force and resulting pain of the strike, his hands clutching at the weapon. "I know your secret my old friend." Simon whispered as he approached the severely wounded victim. Liam pulled out each of the daggers from his body and dropped them, his regenerative abilities already stitching the damaged flesh back together. "Then you will take it to your grave!" He shouted before transforming into his Hell Hound form. The black beast stood at six feet on all four legs, sharp talons and fangs extending outwards and his fur igniting in an inferno of flames. He was no mere creature of myth that could be easily defeated. Liam Szever was the Canine, the Hound of Death, a weapon formed of malice and ferocity.
"Let us finish what we had started so long ago, old friend." Simon's voice had grown louder as he reached for the claymore that was strapped to the back of his cloak, unsheathing the five-foot blade and holding it forward with one hand. Simon slowly horizontally swung the sword a few times as quick practice, re-familiarizing himself with the weapon that he had not used in ages. Canine growled before beginning to circle Simon, studying his enemy for weaknesses and waiting for the proper time to strike. Simon pivoted on his feet to remain facing Canine, the tip of his sword pointed at the predator to keep the distance between them.
"What are you waiting for? Kill me." Simon goaded, hoping Canine would make a mistake from the provocation. The Hell Hound swiped at the blade with his claws, the sharp sound of metal against keratin rang through both being's ears. Simon and Liam flinched, the sound painfully affecting them both. "Come on you ugly creature!" A shout of frustration erupted from Simon, lowering his weapon as his body jutted forward, leaving him exposed.
Canine pounced, the provocation tactic had worked. Simon brought the sword back up and lunged forward at the air-bound beast, there was no way that the hunter could miss this strike. Suddenly the Hell Hound vanished in a cloud of smoke, Simon's weapon stabbing nothing but air. Canine reappeared behind the immortal swordsman and sunk his fangs into the flesh of Simon's neck while his talons slashed at the back. The next few moments were filled with the brutal and bloody destruction of Simon's body, quickly limbs and skin torn apart.
Liam, back in his human form, stood over the corpse after he had been satisfied with his work. "I told you that you can't kill me."
Gawd Zillah the Vampiric daughter of Naamah, her enforcer some say enjoys herself inside of the Ravens Perch nightclub. She is dancing up a storm, and paying very little attention to all of the locals whom bore her for the most part. Her eyes keep hoping that she sees a new face in the crowd, but she doesn't keep her hopes high.
@Naamah_Obyzouth: The Madripoor Magistrate strolls into the nightclub, scoping out the vampiric city, hoping to expand operations here, only with the blessings of it's leader however. Making his way through the crowd, the shadowbender takes a seat at a private booth, looking out on the dance floor.
@Katashi_Nagano: Zillah notices the Japanese stranger almost instantly, except she keeps her best poker face on. She is wearing large glamorous sunglasses, and carrying a zebra print handbag. She opens her handbag and pulls out a silver plated carrying case for her cigarettes, which she then places in her ruby red lipstick lips, and smiles. She pulls a blowtorch from her purse and lights her smoke, the other Vampires in the room stare at her like she is totally insane. Some even look nervous, worried, scared. "Pu$$ies," she thinks to herself, as she enjoys a nice wicked chuckle.
@Naamah_Obyzouth: The woman was hard to miss, it seemed nearly everyone's eyes were on her. Raising his glass to his lips he takes a long contemplating drink before glancing to the empty seat across from him before making eye contact with her once again.
@Katashi_Nagano: Zillah excuses herself from the dance floor after they are done playing her jam. She makes her way over to the stranger, and leans against the open seat across from him. Her top is low cut, and her lacy undergarments are showing, as she is almost spilling out. "I don't believe I have seen your face in here before. Mind if I join you?" She says with a toothy grin on her face, not even slightly worried about hiding her true nature from this man. Zillah is about as real as they come what you see is what you get, and if you don't like it you can f*ck off.
"Zillah is what they call me Katashi. I am kind of a local legend around these parts, if you need any information... Well then I am your gal." She says as she bats her long dark perfectly separated eyelashes. The whole local legend statement is a bit of an over statement but not completely untrue, some Elders would argue that local pain in the arse fits a better description.
@Naamah_Obyzouth: "Really..." Drawing the word out, smiling across the table at the vampire as he leaned back into the booth. "If what you say is true Zillah, then I may require your... services... in the future." Noticing a passing waitress he waved her over. "Another for me please, and whatever my new acquittance would like." Winking at the vampiric beauty.
@Katashi_Nagano: "Well... I admit I have a habit of sticking my nose where it don't belong... So that has given me a lot of information that is not privy to all, but it has also put me on some folks radar screens." She says with a wicked giggle. "Fresh off the buss from Kansas." She says to the waiter, speaking of the special for the evening.
@Katashi_Nagano: "You first... You are the visitor here after all." She replies with a smirk. The waiter walks a young woman from Kansas over to Zillah whom offers her a nibble from her wrist. All the humans that frequent the perch are vampire groupies for the most part.
@Katashi_Nagano: "NEAT... I thought you were going to say you lived there... Not you owned it." She smirks. "I didn't mean anything by the small comment... It is just that my knowledge of your homeland is limited. Want to play 20 questions with me, maybe that will help us get to know one another a little better?"
Naamah: DARK ANGEL (Part one)
Naamah perched on the top rail of the fire escape and watched Jillian sleeping peacefully. The first nights after the attack, the girl had tossed and called out, trying to escape whatever hoodlums haunted her dreams. There's worse things out there, Naamah silently warned her.
From seven blocks away, car tires screeched. Naamah cringed and waited for the crash, which never came. Almost as a second thought, she glanced back and made sure that the noise hadn't awakened Jillian. The girl still slept quietly. Over the past few weeks of watching. Naamah had developed an uncanny sense of when the sleeper would awake, the slight turn of the head and stretching of the neck just before the telltale fluttering eyes. Naamah was sure that, aside from the night of the attack, Jillian had never seen her, and even that night was easily explained away as hysteria or trauma. Even so, there were times when Jillian was awake, times when Naamah knew beyond a doubt that she was out of sight, that the dark-skinned girl seemed to know that someone or something was watching her.
I remember that feeling, Naamah thought.
She was was distracted for a moment by the sound of movement from the shadows below, but there was nothing there.
You're jumpy tonight, girl. Probably because of that biker last night, she decided, the thought of which reminded her that she shouldn't leave Zillah alone so much. Anthony didn't spend any more time with her than he had to, and what if the biker did come back?
But Naamah's gaze drifted back to the sleeping Jillian. Naamah understood Zillah's fears, and even shared a few, but, with Naamah, a strange affinity ran more deeply. The mortal girl looked so peaceful lying there beneath the sheet. When she was awake, however, she possessed a certain defiance, a naivete coupled with a wrong headed sense of invulnerability.
I remember that feeling too, thought Naamah. She has once felt exactly the same way. Now she knew better. She knew better than to think everything would turn out right. She knew better than to expect nothing too bad to happen to her. Jillian, though, continued sleeping, oblivious to the worst fears the night had to offer.
After a few minutes, Naamah realized that she had been staring at the sleeping girl and that's what normal people passed for these days: mortal, meat, blood. Above the line of the white sheet, Jillian's hand rested limply on her chest, and above her hand was her bare neck. Naamah imagined that she could see the pulse of the jugular, or could she really? The surrounding sounds of the city faded away beneath the thump, thump, thump of a single human heart, beneath the intermittent swish of blood forced through arteries and veins.
Naamah was halfway through the window, licking her lips, before she caught herself. She retreated back to the fire escape and shook her head forcefully. "Damn, I hate that!" Naamah growled under her breath as she sat and hugged her knees to her chest. Losing control like that, even momentarily, brought memories of the change flooding back, of the first night she'd tasted blood at her lips and lost herself to the undeniable hunger.
Sitting there, Naamah wanted to look over the window still at Jillian, but was afraid to let herself. What if it happens again? What if I can't stop? Why did I even bother to save her? Naamah wondered, though she knew that ripping those two men apart had been less an act of heroism, and more the predatory impulse of a hunter whose prey was being stolen away. Hell, if those bastards hadn't stepped in the way, she fully realized for the first time, I might have killed Jillian myself.
Naamah: DARK ANGEL (Part Two)
The instinct for the hunt had taken over, as it had so many times before. Who was to say when it would happen again? Naamah knew better than to think it wouldn't. For all her newly found powers, it was another way she was helpless.
Angry with herself and seeking distraction, Naamah pointedly did not look at Jillian, but instead tugged at her own shoes. They'd been bothering her for some time now, and she was in no mood, at the moment, to take crap from inanimate objects. She yanked at the tongues of her leather kicks as if they were the source of all her problems, and when she pulled her feet free, the cause of her physical discomfort was readily apparent.
The shoes were fine. But Naamah stared in horror at her feet. From the heel to the ball of each foot was mashed together and only about half as long as it should've been. Her gnarled toes, however, were abnormally elongated. They stretched almost like tiny fingers, tipped with thick, dark curved nails.
Claws, Naamah thought, aghast.
She'd watched before as her fingers transformed into razor-sharp claws, but that had only happened when she'd been angry or upset, and it hadn't lasted long. She continued to stare at what couldn't be her feet and waited for the illusion to fade, or, at the worst, for them to change back.
Oh my God.
Naamah tentatively reached out and was actually surprised that she felt the sensation in her foot of her own fingertips brushing across wrinkled and twisted skin.
"You gave in to the Beast," said a voice from below.
Naamah jumped to her deformed feet. A level below her on the fire escape stood, not the Puerto Rican man from downstairs apartment she'd expected to see, but instead, a complete stranger.
The hair on the back of her neck shot up straight. The stranger neither retreated nor advanced. He stood there with a blank, unfriendly expression. Dark sunglasses and long, tangled hair partially obscured his face. The shades of the torn, wrinkled clothes her wore blended almost perfectly into the night-time cityscape.
Naamah's initial shock quickly gave way to a low growl that rose up from her gut, but the stranger raised a finger to his lips. "Shh." He nodded towards Jillian's window.
He was right, Naamah knew. She didn't want to risk waking Jillian. Even so, Naamah bristled. Who was he to tell her what to do? She swallowed the growl, but her anger demanded an outlet, and before realizing that she was going to, she leapt down the steps at the stranger.
He seemed less surprised by her actions then she did. With one fluid motion, he placed a hand on the top rail and vaulted off the fire escape.
As Naamah's knees uncoiled from the impact of her landing, she sprang after him without the slightest pause. Her shift in momentum carried her over the rail, and she landed crouched and ready to attack in the alley only feet away from the stranger. "Hold still, you ba$tard," she growled, now that she was safely away from the window,
The stranger was gone, but his scent lingered... A faint yet distinctive smell that Naamah had noticed other times, but never had been able to connect the odor to its source. At once, she began in the direction her nose told her the stranger had gone, but she stopped after only a few steps.
Who will you leave unwatched? His words of just moments before came back to her.
She glanced again up at the window. Was there a threat to Jillian?
Who will you leave unwatched?
He obviously knew about the girl, although not even Naamah understood what drew her here almost every night. The smell. Naamah forced herself to think. Her instincts had swung instantly from aggression towards the stranger to protectiveness of Jillian, but Naamah needed to think. She'd noticed the smell last night at the garage. Did that mean he also knew about Zillah and Anthony and their resting place?
I'll be back, the biker had said... Like a bad rerun of a Schwarzenegger flick. Was this stranger part of the bikers gang as well?
Naamah glanced up at the window again. Or is he luring me away so he can come back? she wondered.
@Amaranth_Strix: (Just thought you'd like to read it <3)
Naamah: DARK ANGEL (Conclusion)
Like so many nights over the past few weeks, Naamah found herself torn between staying and watching over the sleeping mortal, and going to those of her own kind. Without consciously resolving the dilemma, Naamah found herself following the scent, and though it soon faded away to nothing, the first steps had set her on a path to the Troll-Breaker Bridge.
After half a mile, Naamah realized that she'd left her shoes behind on the fire escape, but she had dithered long enough. Besides, her half malformed feet moved easily over the pavement. Neither gravel nor broken glass pained her tough, leathery soles, and the rhythmic tap of claws on the asphalt lulled her into a loping trance.
Who will you leave unwatched?
The blocks and miles fell away behind her until she was crossing the bridge, passing a car that swerved away from the shadow flashing, only for an instant, through the driver's peripheral vision. Then the bridge, too, was receding in the distance. Naamah passed the spot where she'd faced the biker the night before. She pressed onward frantically, urged ahead by the great dread building within her. What if she was too late reaching her friends? What if she'd made the wrong decision, and something terrible happened to Jillian?
As the garage came into view, Naamah felt, not relief, but an instant of inexplicable terror. All seemed dark and quiet from without. Normal quiet or too quiet?
The question had scarcely flashed through her mind before she was at the door. She ripped it open. The chain on the handle shattered as the links were met with force they couldn't resist. The clanking of the adamantium chain fragments scattering across the parking lot was lost in the explosion of the metal door slamming open against the titanium wall of the building.
Naamah charged in, ready to attack.
Anthony jumped up from where he sat and spun around to face her. Naamah caught only a brief glimpse of Zillah as she scuttled down into the nearest pit.
"Mother...!" Anthony started to yell, but his curse trailed off as recognition slowly replaced shock on his face. "What the hell you doing?"
Naamah quickly scanned the darkness interior of the building. "Has he been here?" she blurted out.
"What...? Who?" Anthony, already angry and more than a little embarrassed at having been caught off-guard, was not calmed by Naamah's near-frantic manner.
The biker, she started to say but then realized that wasn't who she was most worried about. The stranger. "Anyone."
"Nobody... but your crazy a$s breaking down the f*ck'n door!" Anthony said.
A light flickered to life in the pit where Zillah had fled. She poked her head into view and lifted up her mechanic's lamp. "Naamah? That you?"
"Turn off the dam* light!" responded both Naamah and Anthony in unison as they shielded their eyes.
As the light went out and all three were bathed in total darkness, Naamah heard, for the second time that night, the screeching of car tires. Earlier, she'd expected a crash. This time her expectations were fulfilled.
A roaring engine burst into a sudden crescendo of destruction, twisted and torn metal, as a car barreled through the garage's left bay door. A headlight shattered into a blinding spray of glass and sparks.
I am Amaranth.
My world is on fire.
The crackle of flames fill my ears. My skin blisters. Eyebrows singe, smoke burns my eyes, melted rubber from the steering wheel comes off on my gloves. The scent of burning leather chokes me, the flames from my seat lapping at my ears. Pain. Pure, unadulterated pain.
Spiderwebs run through the windshield, the world whips over my head. Tilting, rolling, upside down, spinning around me like the world was some wild Ferris wheel. Earth and sky flash before my eyes, hell licks at my skin, and my mind.. my mind SCREAMS.
It screams with aeons of reflexes, it screams of practice, it screams of experience it screams-
A mental command, memorized, mastered and reflexive. I become a specter, a ghost, freezing in place as my car finishes its death spiral Slamming into the ground, a twisted wreck.
I turn, an armored car races toward me. The driver, his knuckles white his mouth ajar. Hanging from the passenger window the gunner, smoke lazily spilling from his rocket propelled grenade launcher. His mouth moves 'We got that fuc-'
They speed through my spectral form. I take in their shock, the widening of pupils, the tensing muscles, reflexive jerking of heads. Observing it all in a heartbeat..
..and then they speed on, leaving me to land on the street behind them. Standing to witness the glass blow out of their cab, to hear their screams and screeching tires. To watch their vehicle flip, lazily spinning, crashing, smashing into the street. Sliding across the sidewalk in a shower of sparks, the RPG bouncing off a child's swing-set.
I take a deep breath.
. As the cab had passed through my spectral form I had charged the air in my lungs. Charged it to explode, and solidified it. Leaving the two lungs full of explosive air inside their cab. With only an instant to charge the air it was like a flash-bang going off between them.
The passengers hand appears through the burst sky roof. I stroll on over. He falls from his makeshift exit, crimson blood poring from his nose and ears. My shadow falls over him and he looks up. I must seem a hundred feet tall, an colossus come to life.
He groans. "Who the hell are you?" Gasoline spills from the ruptured fuel tank.
"I am Amaranth."
There's a spark.
His world is on fire.
From the still darkness of a vacant lot a loud tearing sound echos off the hollow nearby buildings, as something metal appears on the other side of a rip in the curtain of reality. It is the head of the mighty Jarlhammer, which is held in the strong able hands of Brynhyld (The Trollbreaker) The gap between worlds widens as her sturdy frame walks through the gateway. Her eyes scan the empty area, looking for any signs of life. "I smell many odd creatures in this place... This is a part of Midgard?"
Naamah waits for a phone call, as she sets up shop across town. The ignorant Hunters have seemed to have cleared out of the city. She still has the witches issue to deal with however, and it seems that some more demons have moved into Ravens Landing. There have also been some reports and rumors about Asgardians, as well as some other unknowns. Never a dull moment in the winter wonderland of death and blood.
Naamah wondered where the hell the Demon who had stolen her Lord's amulet could be. She knew it was a Sewer Rat of one at that... She'd seen him long enough to know that he was ugly as sin... But couldn't describe him to anyone in any detail. Even the Vampires who knew the demons of the city "Cannot put a name to the face."
Maybe it was time to give up... If the demon was still at large, he would surly steal again. Next time she would be ready, and he obviously has some sort of arcane ability for protecting his identity.
A famished Arturia drifted languidly along a dimly lit Ravens Landing sidewalk. Her face weary and her eyes covered, she yet managed weaving around the citizens and objects on her way to no particular destination. In the city whispered about in some circles for having a strong supernatural presence, she could feel eyes on her, emotions directed toward her all along the way. Even knowing there was always something that put her off in the eyes of others, she always considered herself human, so it's no wonder she would attract attention. She hadn't counted on the amount, nor the kind of attention she garnered.
Despite their lacking heartbeats, she had a number of other ways of detecting them. Six vampires approaching with malicious hearts she could sense before they converged on her position. Even strong and fast as she was, her hunger made her weak. She would have to rely on surprise and attempt an escape. The bloodsuckers approached slowly, quietly on all sides; Arturia was not so subtle. They would make their move regardless of what she did, so she acted first, extending her nails and driving them through the heart of the first man in front of her. He hissed and squealed only for a moment before he was reduced to ash.
She didn't wait for him to finish dying before running herself, taking off as fast as she could into the night. But they were fresher, faster. and she was caught by the hair before she made it two yards. One or two might've been manageable, had she been fed, but these were five and she was in need of feeding herself. For what it's worth, she fought until she was pinned and her head had been stomped a few times, dazing her. Once she'd been sufficiently disoriented, the voracious fiends all took a single turn, draining her strength through her neck, arms, and thighs, until her vehement protests and screams became little more than whimpers and agonized twitches and she could do naught but wait for it all to end.
Once they'd had their fill, she was left a trembling, bleeding mess in the alleyway, left waiting for her healing, which was to be severely delayed at her current state of being, to take effect.