tabitha pryce is a cougar. (savaged) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-02-20 21:32:00 |
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Who: James Potter, Lily Potter, Remus Lupin, Marlene Lupin, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Elsie Prod, Damocles Belby, Fenrir Greyback, Tabitha Pryce, Daniel Rourke, Finnian Rourke, Peggy O'Nell, Clara Bauer, Úrsula Caldeira, Ciara Fitzpatrick, & Andrew Forsythe.
What: The restless Dark Army gets a chance to take their anger out on some of those pesky Order members.
When: 20 February 1980, around 6:30 PM, after dark.
Where: The old Potter house in Godric's Hollow.
Status: Complete.
Rating: R.
Dark Army Preparations Fenrir held up the necklace Tabitha had given him and studied it. It was very pretty and from the looks of it, very expensive. He snorted at the idea of someone being welthy enought ot throw away something like this then snorted again at the stupidity of a woman who wouldn't miss it. These people needed to spend a year living hand to mouth. They might start to appreciate their belongings a bit more. Still... none of that really mattered right now. It was what they needed and it had the tracking charm on it that would show us where McKinnon was. He walked over to the owl that was waiting, hunched up and looking nervous, on the back of his camp chair. The owl kept glancing between Fenrir and Bird as though unsure who was the greater threat. Fenrir growled at at the owl to get its attention as he dropped the necklace into a small leather pouch and attached the note he'd had one of the others write in block printing. He glanced down at the note and grinned as he read it:
He laughed as he tied the pouchand note to the owl's leg then he picked up the bird and carried it out of the tent. "Take that to Marlene McKinnon," he ordered then tossed the owl into the air. The bird flapped away with almost indecent haste. Fenrir watched it go then chuckled and headed back into his tent to collect his wand and cloak. It was time to gather the troops and follow that tracking charm to its destination. Godric's Hollow They had been at the house for quite some time now, studying the ID cards together, attempting to decipher the numbers and solve the patterns and figure out how to duplicate the cards well enough that they could pass as believable. It was nice to actually be doing something, working with his hands and stimulating his mind -- but they were proving to be difficult. Working together, he felt confident that they all would be able to crack the code and figure out a way to make passable copies, and he knew it would take time, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. It came as a relief to Remus when Lily arrived at Godric's Hollow with dinner, and he excused himself from the dining room for a much needed break while dinner was prepared. Not wishing to disturb Marlene from her sleep upstairs in their old bedroom, Remus had decided to retire to the den. Damocles was in the living room, holding up two cards in his hand, peering at them closely as if they would reveal the secrets of the universe, except that they weren't doing that, sadly enough. Still, he thought it was rather productive, gathering with the other members and checking out the cards to see if it was possible to copy them. He put one of the cards back on the table and picked up the piece of parchment where they had compiled the numbers on the IDs to compare, scratching his head as he tried to figure out the pattern of the numbers. "Cannae you stop working even for a minute?" Elsie teased her brother, pushing herself out from the table and standing up. She gave him a playful punch on the shoulder as she began to walk away. "Should probably give Lily a hand," she said, heading off to help with the food. That, at least, was something she could feel satisfied doing, unlike these rotten ID cards that were starting to make her want to pull out her hair. Lily was a saint for doing that. James's head was aching, which it always did when he stared at number for any length of time. They were all beginning to blur together and when Lily arrived with food he was relieved to shove his own card into his back pocket and join his wife in the kitchen. He was on his fourth glass of tea when nature called and he kissed her on the cheek to head for the loo. Ciara Fitzpatrick vs Lily Potter Today was a big day for Ciara. And a very exciting one at that! It might very possibly mean the end of her run as an "undercover werewolf", but only if there were survivors, and Ciara was going to help avoid that, if at all possible. Normally she wasn't one to crave violence, crave the kill, crave the taste of blood, but she had been getting antsy sitting around the camp all day, and was ready for action. Whatever form that action came in. When the time came, she summoned up her energy and crashed through the window closed to where she had been crouching. Immediately leaping to her feet, she glanced around her for any signs of life. She was in a sitting room, and comfortable looking one at that. But there was nobody there. Creeping across the floor, Ciara peeked through the door. A kitchen this time, and this room was not empty. She could see the back of a redhead, and snarled to herself. Smashing her way through the door, she flung herself at the woman with all her strength. Lily was busy stirring the stew. She tasted it and considered adding in more onions. It was relaxing to get out of the house for a moment, and to be around everyone else. She missed having a lot of people around in the cottage, but she knew it was better that she and James learned to rely even more on each other before little Elvendork came around. She started hearing noise, but she assumed that it was everyone else getting a little rowdy. "No breaking anything!" she called, laughing to herself as she tapped her wooden spoon on the pot. "I wonder who's making the racket now," she said, glancing at Elsie for a moment as she reached for her wand and pointed it behind her head, "Accio cutting board!" she said. Lily turned around to grab the wooden board as it came, her wand still in hand as she did. She turned sharply, instinctively flinging the cutting board at the strange woman as she also shouted, "Incendio!" Everything happened so fast, and Elsie was hurrying out of the kitchen and a frightening, snarling woman was hurtling at her. This might not be the same werewolf she had fought with before, but it was the first thing that came to her mind. The cutting board hit Ciara smack in the face and knocked her backwards with a howl, making her narrowly miss the spell. It wasn't a complete miss, however; her hair flipped up as she fell back and the ends, catching the jet of light, started to burn. Landing in a crouch, she extinguished the fire with her own hands, yelping slightly then steeling herself for another attack. Wizards may have wands but she had agility on her side. Glaring up at her opponent through a tangle of hair, she launched herself forward again with a growl, hands outstretched. Lily was prepared now, and she moved to the side quickly, although she knew that she did not have enough speed to outrace the woman who flung herself at her. She called out another incendio before she swished her wand in the air and said, "Stupefy!" She wanted to get out of there. It wasn't safe to have something this dangerous around her baby. But with a jolt she realized that James's wand was on the counter. "JAMES!" she yelled. She couldn't remember where he had gone. But, just in case, she grabbed his wand and shoved it in her pocket. She had to get his wand to him, and then she had to get out of here. But neither of those tasks would be easy with the werewolf hurtling at her. Another miss. Ciara's pride was starting to wound, she didn't want to let Fenrir down by being the only member of the Dark Army not to make a kill. As soon as she landed she leapt again, straight into the second incendio her opponent had fired at her. She yowled loudly and rolled on the ground to extinguish the flames licking at the front of her shirt, fortunately missing the stunning spell that flew above her head. With the flames finally out, she glared up at the redhead. "Think you're bigger than me, fighting me with fire when I'm defenceless?" She narrowed her eyes, then pushed off from the floor again. This time she flipped over and pushed off with her hands in the way that her gym teacher had taught her, flying at her opponent feet first. "Defenseless?" said Lily, holding her wand at the ready, not taking her eyes off Ciara. She grit her teeth, "I don't think you're any more defenseless than I am," she prepared another stunning spell, but was unable to cast it as Ciara's feet knocked her down. Lily stood, terrified for her child for a moment, and then cast a ferocious stunning spell while still standing, hoping to shoot the werewolf against the cabinets. Rolling off Lily, Ciara did her best to duck under the stunning spell. It caught her ear (that hurt!) but otherwise didn't seem to do her much harm. Gasping momentarily, she spat out a reply and also leapt to her feet. "You don't see me waving around little sticks!" Snarling again, she attacked. This time she didn't leap forward, she was close enough that she simply swung her hand, fingers bent and nails pointed forward, at Lily's jaw. "Obscura!" Lily cried, and then she rolled over, trying to get out of her grip before she was cut. She scrambled to her feet, her wand still ready. She cast a blasting hex in the direction of Ciara's legs, and she could hear James calling her. "I'm in the kitchen!" she yelled. "James -- Your wand! I've got it!" Trying to leap at Lily before her opponent could find her feet enough for another counter-attack, Ciara pounced straight into her first spell. She snarled in surprise and shock as a blindfold appeared over her eyes -- flailing momentarily with her arms in a desperate attempt to strike the other woman, she stumbled sideways into a counter. As she ripped the blindfold off, desperate to lose her disadvantage, there was a crack and an explosion of pain. She screamed as she felt her leg break, tumbling to the ground as it failed to support her weight. She bit her lip hard, trying not to cry out again, trying not to show a weakness. "Stupid wizards," she mumbled, before staring up at Lily from the floor, lying on her front supporting her weight with her arms. "Happy now? Will killin' me make you feel powerful? I'm smaller than you, younger than you, so go on. Do it. I dares ya." Lily didn't have the time, nor the stomach, to kill Ciara. She flicked her wand at her, yelling at out "Levicorpus!" She saw James at the edge of the kitchen and she threw his wand at him, knowing that she had to get out of here, and fast. Ciara had no more 'smart' remarks to make as she found herself lifted into the air. Crashing back into the floor, she landed on her already broken leg and was winded completely. Not even looking up this time, she pushed herself up, supporting her weight mainly on her arms, wondering if she dared try and hobble out. There was no way she would continue to fight, at least. Peggy O'Nell vs James Potter When James was feeling antsy he had a tendency toward drinking too much tea to keep his hands busy, and when he drank too much tea he ended up in the bathroom once an hour at least. Tonight was no different, seeing as experimenting and comparing the cards was a risky sort of business. Most everyone else was off in a different part of the house but he'd been sticking close to Lily all night. He was in the bathroom, fly undone when he heard noises from what seemed like every section of the house. An attack. And he'd left his fucking wand in the kitchen. That seemed just about right. He hadn't even bothered to lock the fucking door because why would he? No one that was supposed to be in the house would come in without knocking! The Dark Army was most certainly not supposed to be in the house, but they didn't like to follow rules like that. Fenrir had been given a great opportunity finding these people in this house, and while Peggy was never as excited for physical altercations as the werewolves were, she looked forward to the possibility of meat the way she liked it - straight off the bone as the blood was still pumping. She crawled through the window into a room that looked like some sort of workspace and readied herself to attack the first person she saw. There was no one in the room. Disappointed, she slowly opened the door to head into the rest of the house, and just as it opened, she heard a click not at all unlike another door closing. It was likely a loo, she could tell from the proximity of the door to the one she had just came out of and... The door was open. Hags weren't quick, but the loo was small, so she barged in as quickly as she could and held out her hand, hoping her blasting magic would work this time. "What the fuck?" James shouted as he was thrown backwards against the wall. A hag? James's mum had done so much warning against hags and hag-taunting as a child that James had a healthy dose of respect for what they could do. His head hurt like a bitch from being thrown back and his trousers sank a few inches below his waist, threatening to drop to his knees as he stared at the hideous "woman" before him. Thank fucking Merlin for boxer shorts... "Accio wand!" he shouted, hoping like hell that although he'd never successfully managed that spell wandless, suddenly it would work. Nothing happened and the hag was closing in on him. The towel rack hanging on the wall was never the sturdiest and James grabbed for it and then pulled it back toward him hard, upsetting it off the wall. He swung it at Peggy face. Peggy ducked when she saw him with something in his hand, and somehow - luck perhaps? It certainly wasn't skill - it missed her face. She stayed low, hoping to keep under his arms and have a better chance of getting closer to him, where she wouldn't have to rely on her sporadic magic and could use her real power - her teeth and nails. He was wearing pants and damn winter clothes often left little flesh exposed, but she saw that his pants were slipping so she yanked down on them and lunged for his leg, eager to sink her teeth into the meaty thigh. It wasn't often James had a woman's head in his lap, but this was decidedly unsexy as the hag sang her teeth into his upper thigh just inches from the most important part of his body. He double over in pain. He was off balance from swinging the bar and she had his pants down around his knees which made movement nearly impossible. He tried to kick her off but it was all a tangle of material (muggle jeans were tougher to rip than Hypogryff hide) and he ended up falling forward on her. He could feel blood rushing down his leg, and it burned-- not like a regular bite but like something all together more sinister. "Fucking hag bitch," he swore, swinging the bar hard again down at the top of her head, over and over as he tried to kick his pants off. Peggy released her grip on James' leg when she found herself being repeatedly bashed over the head with a metal towel rack. Her hands flew to cover her head and she shrunk backward, hissing furiously at him. The hag released her chomping hold on his thigh and he kicked out of his pants. At least he had some mobility again. He'd bought himself a second as she hissed and he swing the bar again, hoping to scare her out of the way as he rushed past her. His leg was throbbing but it hadn't been so bad he couldn't still walk on it and he needed to get to Lily. He could hear shouts and spells and crashing in every direction and he rounded the corner so that he could see the kitchen. "Lils! GET OUT OF HERE!" James shouted at his wife. He'd managed to get past her, and she stared after him for a split-second, still rubbing her head, before she'd even realised. No, she decided, he'd tasted too good and she wouldn't let him get away, and besides, she didn't want to let Fenrir down. She lunged after him, claws outstretched, but he was too quick and she was too slow and she'd only managed to scratch his back before she fell into the wall. Lily looked up at James and with a swish of her wrist sent James's wand flying into his hand. "LILY, NOW!" James shouted at her again. If anything happened to her or Elvendork he'd never forgive himself. She'd obviously stayed around to make sure he got his wand and now he was going to damn well use it. "I'm gone!" Lily said. She made sure that she would have at least a second or two and then she apparated away, her other arm tucked securely around her the place that Elvendork grew inside of her. Peggy was still close and his back felt as if it had been shredded. The hag's fingers had torn through the material and it was wet and warm there. Bloody. He turned his wand on her and hit her with the strongest blasting hex he knew. Backwards she flew into the bathroom and hit the toilet with her head, hard. The world went black for just a moment until she realised that her hair and clothes were all wet - the bowl had cracked. "Bollocks," she croaked as she picked herself up off the floor. This wasn't worth it, she decided. She'd much rather pick off Muggles or even have a cow's liver at the Leaky. Hopefully Fenrir would be pleased enough with the damage she did manage to do because she was getting out of there. With a little pop she disappeared, back to her home in Clitheroe. James heard the hag crash into the toilet but all he could think about was making certain Lily was alright. "Fuck the house! Everyone get the fuck out of here!" he shouted to his friends. With that he apparated home to check on his wife. Andrew Forsythe & Daniel Rourke vs Elsie Prod After scanning the side of the house, Daniel decided that the most direct and effective way to enter the house would be through the sitting room window. It didn't look like there were any traps on the opposite side of the glass and he certainly wasn't going to try walking through the front door - so he threw his shoulder into the window with all his weight behind it, shattering the glass. Through the hole, there was enough room for him to unlock the window and enter, landing in a heap on the sitting room floor. It took him a moment to regather himself before he made his way further into the house, creeping into the kitchen to look for the rest of the house's inhabitants. The fighting had already begun there, but Daniel paid no mind - he was sure Ciara could handle herself against a woman who was very obviously pregnant. Skirting the edge of the room, he made his way to the stairs, sure that there must have been others hiding elsewhere in the house. Elsie heard the crash of breaking glass from the sitting room as she was taking a large bowl off a high shelf and when she turned around, things suddenly began to happen very quickly. She didn't even get the chance to wonder if the crash had been some of the blokes roughhousing around or an actual threat, since two things distracted her at that moment: out of one corner of her eye she saw a woman attacking Lily and out of the other, a man was headed for the stairs. Gently setting the bowl down on the counter (with magic) she had to make a quick decision - help Lily or surprise the man who seemed to be heading upstairs where a sleeping Marlene lie unaware. She hoped to her lucky stars that Lily would be all right and ran over to the stairs, sending a blasting curse directly at his back, sending him tumbling down the stairs. Hand on the doorframe, Elsie stared down at the man, trying to remember the words for the spell that made stairs flatten and turn into a slide. "Glissea!" she shouted, but that wasn't quite right. "Glisso? Gliss...?" Meanwhile, in another part of the house that was just a little less chaotic, one of the unlocked windows in the sitting room creaked open, leaving just enough room for Andrew to climb in. There didn't seem to be anyone in this particular room -- not that it was necessarily a bad thing, as one of the last things he wanted was to get hexed while awkwardly straddling the window sill -- but he could hear shouting (yes, that was definitely fake Latin just then) nearby and ambled accordingly in its direction. In a few short moments, he found himself standing in the kitchen (a room he wouldn't be caught dead in at his own house, obviously) and arriving just in time to see a woman push one of those dreadful working-class werewolves through a door and down what seemed to be a set of stairs to a basement. No surprises there, but more important than snobbish vindication at that moment was ensuring that the witch -- she had to be one, if she was in the house -- wouldn't turn around, notice his presence, and hex him with magical fire or whatever else it was they could do. As quickly as he could then, Andrew ran at Elsie while she was still facing the basement and roughly shoved her as hard as he could in the direction of the stairs. It was admittedly rather unsporting to go from behind without warning, not to mention that he was attacking a woman, but surely she would have had no scruples about attacking a relatively defenceless-by-comparison Muggle using magic -- so it really was entirely fair in the end. Until she found herself flying down the stairs, Elsie Prod had felt pretty pleased with herself. Despite having never been involved with any of these physical altercations that many of the others had before, she'd kept her head well enough when she saw the werewolf. Unluckily for her, despite her success blasting Daniel down the stairs, she waited a split second too long trying to figure out the incantation for the spell she wanted and the next thing she knew she was flying down the stairs too. The only thing she could think of in the time she was falling were pillows, so she tried to conjure some up to land on, but unfortunately the fall was short and she was tumbling every which way, so by the time she landed at the bottom of the stairs there were only two pillows underneath her (luckily cushioning most of her head) and five on top of her (doing absolutely no good). She ached like hell, she'd fallen straight onto her left shoulder and her elbow felt like there was no skin left on it. "OWWWWWWWwwww!!!!" she wailed, tears springing to her eyes. The shove had worked just as well as Andrew had been hoping it would, but he didn't have a great deal of time to gloat over it before she very likely came to her senses and composed herself enough to strike back using magic. The moment Elsie lost her footing and fell after the other werewolf, he took a few steps down himself, fumbled for the light-switch (did wizards even have those?) so that he could actually see where he was going, and shut the door behind him just in case any of the others followed to help her. Of course, that could mean the other werewolves couldn't help him and Daniel if they needed it, but surely two Muggle men against a witch balanced out to a fair match somehow. Once Elsie had landed on the ground (where did those pillows suddenly come from?), he wasted no time in pouncing on her and pining her to the floor of the basement. He absolutely did not want to kill her unless he really had to -- he couldn't speak for Daniel though, wherever and however he was now -- so he focused on disarming her instead. He batted at the hand she held her wand in, hoping he could knock the thing away; to be even safer, he also leaned over in the same swift motion and bit down on her arm near the wrist, so that at the very least, she might have difficulty using her wand even if she kept her grip on or retrieved it after losing it. All Elsie really wanted to do was curl up and hold her shoulder and elbow until they stopped hurting, but in a fight she didn't have that luxury, she quickly realised. She soon found herself pinned to the floor with someone's teeth around her wrist, and this was nothing like other times she'd been bitten (Marcus mostly, or Egnorwiddle when he was younger). No. She was trapped in a basement with two grown men and they were not getting her only means of defense. She hadn't noticed yet that they weren't carrying wands, and if she had a minute to think about it she would have realised they weren't Death Eaters since they weren't wearing robes and masks, but everything was happening so fast that she didn't know who they were, just that they were trying to take her wand away from her and that one was making her wrist burn like nothing she'd ever felt before. She squeezed her hand tighter around the wand, like she would squeeze a friend's hand if something hurt her, and screamed. He needed to get off of her, and off of her now. She started struggling, flailing around, but she was obviously weaker than him. She started kicking now, and tried to kick higher and higher, searching for that magic spot that would hurt all men, Death Eaters or not. Even though Andrew had transformed into a werewolf dozens of times now and had been Cruciated during the fight at the Ministry in January, neither of those experiences made getting kicked down there any more pleasant and endurable than he remembered it being; it also didn't help that he had been focused on her wand and wrist and therefore didn't see it come until it was too late to try and shield himself with his leg. A odd strangled mix of the start of a vulgar word and an impossibly high-pitched whine was torn from his throat as he let go of her wrist and rolled off into an awkward position on the floor. The adrenaline was thankfully going to stave off the pain a little, but it also added fuel to his rage now; he didn't like fighting women at all, but all bets were off now that she'd gone there -- or at least they would be once he had taken a brief moment to not-really-recover. Daniel took his time getting to his feet - Andrew had seemed to have things under control - but as he saw him roll away, his actions took on a bit more purpose. He had barely stood up before he dove at Elsie, his hand reaching out for her wrist and wand. With all the force he could muster (while still feeling light-headed from smashing his head at the bottom of the stairs), he clawed at the chest of her robes in hopes of revealing the more vulnerable skin beneath it. If he could reach the delicate throat area, he doubted she would even remember she was holding a wand. Elsie felt sharp nails going through her robes (and shit, she really liked these robes too) and cried out in pain. She was not used to this and hoped she wouldn't ever be - nobody liked being attacked. She tried to knee Daniel in the groin too, but his legs were on hers and preventing him from moving. Struggling would be to no avail, she knew, since she wasn't the strongest person in the world, but despite her lack of experience in real combat, her few years of being married to Demetrius Prod taught her to be quick with her wand. He'd caught her arm somewhat, but with a bit of difficulty she was able to twist her wrist around and aim the first hex that popped into her mind at the man. "Take that!" she muttered. The hex that turned him into a giant canary only lasted about fifteen seconds, but that would be enough time for her to think of something else. All the ferocity Daniel had been feeling turned to confusion as he felt himself shrinking, losing his appendages, the depth of his vision and sprouting yellow feathers. For the full fifteen seconds he spent as a canary, he was too confused to figure out a way to continue fighting. By the time he began transforming back, he was still disoriented and confused. He'd seen people do some strange things with their magical abilities but that was new to him, particularly the part where he was the subject of such magic. After several seconds sitting stunned and confused, he leaped back into action, this time determined to get her wand from her. Elsie had scrambled out from beneath him the moment Daniel turned into a canary, wand ready. She moved backward, near some boxes and an old table that was laying on its side, hoping that the random items in the basement could give her coverage. One of the men (the one who wasn't a canary) was still here near the stairs, so she couldn't make a run for them. Of course, considering he pushed her down the stairs and attacked her, that man probably wouldn't let her just back away and take cover. She pointed her wand and shot a blasting curse at him, the same spell she would use for digging up the roots of the bushes whenever she would garden. The fifteen seconds were about up, and so she readied herself to attack, and shot the same blasting curse at the second man. Just Blasting Curses wouldn't help though, especially if it was two wizar- wait, where were their wands? Realisation dawned on Elsie as she discovered that these two men weren't wizards at all - they must be werewolves. While that scared her tremendously, she knew, at least, that with a wand she one-upped them. And she had learned a few things from all her arguments with Dem. Raising her wand again she pointed it at the man who had just been a canary. Maybe something more permanent. A sloth? Andrew, though still doubled over somewhat from the pain down there, had finally managed to get to his feet as Daniel had attacked the woman and -- had she seriously just turned him into a giant canary? How dreadfully embarrassing. Then again, that was probably less irritating and (slightly) less emasculating than being struck in his sensitive area. Not that it mattered though, because he was fucking pissed off after that previous stunt of hers, and he rarely found himself in any sort of violent rage. And he was even angrier after he tried to dodge the Blasting Curse and it glanced off his torso, cracking several ribs he would have noticed more had his adrenaline and rage not been hitting the roof. While the woman was distracted with turning the other man into a sloth (honestly?), Andrew made his way behind her as quickly as he could and, after kicking aside one of boxes, launched himself at her. 'Good show, bitch,' he snarled with unusual crudeness (and in a higher pitch than he would have liked). He reached forward with one arm to grab the wrist he'd bitten so he could point her wand away from him and wrapped his other arm around her so that her wand-less arm was pinned to her side. 'But you're not leaving this basement until we're finished with you.' He grabbed the fabric covering her left shoulder and tore it open with his teeth to expose the skin underneath, then bit down hard over and over again, ripping the skin and muscle apart. He wasn't usually this messy or vicious, but she had kicked him there and he wasn't going to let anyone, much less a woman, get away with it. That her attempt to turn the other werewolf into a sloth registered with her for just a moment before she howled in pain, a burning, ripping feeling going through her shoulder. She struggled, but each time she moved and his teeth were in her, it just hurt more. Tears poured down her face and she could barely think, every atom of her screaming to get out of there. She kept struggling, trying to drop down and slip out of his grip, but her attempt was fruitless. Sweet Rowena, she was going to be eaten alive by a werewolf, and not even one who was transformed. He was easily outpowering her and she couldn't use her wand at all. What would her husband say when he found out? He didn't even know she in the Order (for good reason), but for a moment she wished that she had been able to tell him. Her sister-in-law probably wouldn't care too much, though she hoped Egnorwiddle would. Her parents would be most devastated, and Damocles, if he even made it out safely. No, she decided. If there was even a chance of getting out, she was going to keep trying. She couldn't do that to her family. She struggled again and again, and finally, miraculously, she managed to get her wand arm free and she twisted her body, his teeth still stuck in his shoulder, and sent a hex straight at him, one of her favourites to use against Demetrius when they were in a row. Andrew hadn't expected her to be able to slip out of his grip like that -- actually, he hadn't expected much of anything, as he had been too pre-occupied with her shoulder to think about anything else -- so he was momentarily thrown off his game as she turned around and shot another spell at him as he lunged at her. He had anticipated another Blasting Curse to knock him back, but -- wait, were his arms seriously turning into tree branches? Who the hell thought of things like that? Then again, this woman had just turned the other werewolf into a sloth. As he had been leaning forward to grab her back when that happened, he also lost his balance and crashed onto the floor of the basement, falling with some of his weight on his cracked ribs. That fucking hurt and his loud, if still high-pitched shouting of some naughty words made that very clear. Of course, it could have been worse if either of his tree branch arms had snapped in half, but his main thought then was how he couldn't use his claws anymore on her. He had to get her down on the floor as well so she didn't have a height advantage, so he twisted around and tried to kick her legs out from under her, hoping to get her close enough to bite one of her limbs or poke her in the eye with a twig; the latter would look rather foolish, but it would serve her right for using such a ridiculous spell. Elsie dodged away the moment he took his mouth off of her, scrambling toward the stairs. He fell but she barely heard his shouts of pain and obscenities, as all her energy was focused on getting there, to the path to safety. She started to trip when he began to kick, but luckily was able to keep her balance. "Get away, ye bag o' shite," she cried, kicking the branches as she tried to make her way up the stairs. She finally found the handrail and began to pull herself up, wanting to get out as fast as she humanly could. It was a good thing he couldn't exactly feel anything with his arms now that they were made of wood, although that didn't stop them from still being knocked out of the way as she kicked them and ran. Usually, he wouldn't have minded too much if a woman got away from him, since that meant he wouldn't have to kill her, but he was still half-angry about the assault on his manhood and half-scared about what Fenrir might say or do if he found out he had failed in taking out his target. He sort of got up and stumbled after her, tripping on one of the lower steps, but still pushing and pulling his way up as best he could with his legs and tree-arms. It was impossible to grab her by the ankle with his claws like he would have done if he could, so he threw one of his arms forward in the hopes of entangling her legs and bringing her down close enough so he could rip into her leg with his teeth. Elsie tripped on the arm-branches of the werewolf, falling on the stairs and hitting the step hard with her chin. She could taste blood in her mouth and her face felt suddenly warm, but she continued to climb, dragging herself up the stairs with her arms. "Ugh," she grunted, turning around so she could point her wand at him. "Confringo!" Having a wand pointed right in his face was not a good thing no matter what spell Elsie was going to fire at him, and he quickly sat up on his knees as he muttered a quick, 'No, please,' before he got blasted in the chest. He was thrown backwards down the stairs and landed on the floor of the basement again after falling roughly against the lower steps. The back of his head hit the wall and he felt like his chest was going to collapse -- the curse must have broken several more ribs, and the blood he coughed up wasn't a good sign either -- but something soft seemed to have broken his fall. He looked down and to his half-horror and half-amusement, he found he was sitting on top of a sloth -- or a werewolf that had been turned into a sloth by the woman a few minutes ago, rather. It worked, or so it seemed so far. Elsie didn't want to stop too long to make sure he was down though, she just wanted to get out of there. Pulling herself up, she felt a bit dizzy and she put her hand on the wall to steady herself. She could still taste the blood in her mouth and realised she'd bit through her lip, but she could barely feel it compared to the pain in her shoulder. She finally made it up the stairs, ready to get out of the house as soon as she found her brother. By the time Elsie was gone, Andrew was more concerned about his own injuries than he was about avenging his emasculation. He staggered to his feet, still doubling over from the dulled burning in his groin and nearly losing his balance as he held out an arm (branch?) to support himself. The weresloth or whatever it was now still seemed to be alive, thankfully -- not that he really cared about him, but he figured he'd be in massive shit if he had to admit that he sat on another Dark Army member to death -- and he tried to coax it to grab onto his tree-arms in a bizarre parody of nature. 'This is absolutely fucking ridiculous,' he muttered (to himself, not the sloth), heading back over to where the woman had taken cover behind some boxes so he could fetch one himself and dump the stupid animal into it. He knocked the box onto its side to push the sloth into it, then used the wall as leverage to set it upright again before starting to kick it step-by-step up the stairs. If his ghastly tree branches couldn't change back into normal arms, he was going to add the woman to his list of people he would go after in due time. Úrsula Caldeira vs Peter Pettigrew Úrsula was, in a word, really really happy to be there. She hadn't had a good fight in a while so, rushing into the house, she ignored everything but the desire to fight someone. She knew she couldn't pick a fight with anyone too much larger, a size advantage plus magic wouldn't spell anything good for her, and she wanted a good fight that she could actually win rather than a fight she was doomed to lose. She had lost sight of almost everything. Mostly, it was the thrill of the fight that made her almost oblivious to her surroundings. She looked around, looking for someone to fight. Spotting someone sitting in the closest room (it looked like , she charged right over, passing by Clara and a few toppled chairs. She didn't even wait to see if he had seen her, she just jumped at him as soon as she was in range. A fight was the last thing that Peter had been prepared for, so the chaos that had come from the building being sieged and individuals who were out for blood pouring into the rooms left him grappling for a way to make an escape. Before he could, though, he found himself lunged at, knocked off balance, and scrambling for somewhere less confining than the dining room. Bumbling backwards into the family room, Peter groped for his wand, yanking it from his inner pocket and firing a quick conjunctivitis curse at the woman's face. Maybe if she was too blind to attack him, he could make some time to get himself into a safer position that wasn't half stumbling, half crawling on the floor. The curse hit Úrsula nearly dead-on and she instantly backed off, clutching her eyes and growling in pain. It was nearly overwhelming, as most direct attacks to the eyes tended to be. Trying to overcome the burning, itchy sensation, she pushed herself up to attack again. She could still attack even if she couldn't really see, she could smell and hear perfectly fine anyway. So she charged again, slamming her full weight into her opponent and digging her claws into his upper torso as she did. Taking the momentary distraction of the woman to scramble to his feet, Peter was able to get clear of the dining area, at least, before he felt a sharp pain spreading from his sides and up the rest of his body as the full impact of the woman smashing into him sent him tumbling back against the sofa. Kicking his legs up and out, Peter aimed for the woman's gut, struggling to get his wand into the position where a repealing charm would actually do any good. A fired a few, but with the awkward angle of his arm only ended up scattering the objects that were set on the tables around the room onto the floor. "Get off!" Peter shouted, his legs kicking again as he turned, wrenching himself from the woman's grasp, the puncture wounds that her claws had made in his side turning into elongated gashes. Winded, Úrsula released her prey, blood flowing freely down her fingers from the new wounds in his side. "You know, when you puncture someone's stomach, the acid just leaks into the rest of their organs until it eats away at them? It's supposedly very painful," she said conversationally, as she caught her breath, pushing herself to her feet and walking in a circle around him. She had to be careful around that damned wand, because if he could aim properly- he could hurt her. That, of course, gave her a logic idea, and her next move was planned out in her head. All she had to do was wait for him to attack her, if he was even brave enough to do that. "Lovely," Peter spat as he watched her as she stalked around him. He was in the vulnerable position right now. He was more than aware of that. He was smaller, bleeding, and practically cornered. There also wasn't an opportunity to heal the wounds in his sides, and he was more than aware that the blood loss would eventually catch up with him. He needed to do something but for the life if him, there was nothing that was coming to mind. That was, until as he circled around with her, looking for an opening, the fireplace caught his eye. There was already a fire going. Maybe. Maybe if he could manage to hit her just as she was lined up with it. A singed behind wouldn't do too much damage as far as things went, but it might give him a chance to repair the damage. Or at least try and bolt for the door. "What do you want?" Peter asked, his wand arm still raised and aimed at her, his gaze shifting only occasionally as she moved, waiting for the right timing. "Or is just another 'for the hell of it' mass slaughtering?" She laughed a little to herself. "It's never just for the hell of it," she said, shaking her head. "You just couldn't even begin to grasp it." Úrsula realised he likely wouldn't be moving until she did, and knew she had to make a move quickly. Walking in circles wasn't productive and she sure as hell didn't want to get left behind because of this whelp holding her up. As she walked, she eyed his wand carefully. Then, as fast as she could manage, she lunged at his wand arm, hoping to break it or throw him off balance, one of the two. Gripping his arm tightly with one hand, she used her weaker hand to punch her opponent in the abdomen as hard as she could manage. "At least you've accepted you have to die." Pain seared through his body at the punch, all of his injures aggravated as he kept a good grip on his wand. He wasn't going to let it go. There was nothing that could make him sacrifice his only defense. Without it, he was as good as dead. But as long as it was in his grasp, "Diffindo," The spell was past his lips, his wand close enough to her body that the cutting charm might do more damage than it usually did. Anything that might get her to let go of him. The spell went into her torso, slicing deeply just below her ribs, and the pain was absolutely excruciating. Úrsula screamed in pain, relinquishing her hold on his arm and grasping the long slice with one hand. Moving one-handed wasn't an easy task, but having her guts fall out was the only alternative. So still clutching her bleeding front, she crouched down and reached out with her free arm, attempting to dig her claws into his calf muscle and pull him down with her. Running wasn't an option with her claws anchoring him to the spot. As he turned to, Peter ended up stumbling forward, belly flopping onto the floor. No. No, this was not what was supposed to happen. He'd gotten the upperhand, but it was just as quickly yanked away from him. Struggling against her grip, Peter turned his torso, holding out his wand and firing each jinx that he could think of that he could manage. Half of them were just joke jinxes. There wasn't so much that tarantella could do for him when they weren't in the position for her being forced to dance would give him the upperhand. And the tickling charm was always good for a laugh, but not very good combat wise. Reaching for something, anything, that would be more useful, Peter finally settled on Relashio, a jet of sparks flying from his wand and towards her face as he tried to pull himself forward with his free arm. Her grip on his leg loosened, and she backed away, still crouched down. She was bleeding too much and it was slowing her down too much, she couldn't really keep fighting at all. Úrsula panted for breath, standing up slowly, somewhat unsteady on her feet. She had to end this, quickly. But did she have the strength left to even kill this little boy? "How do you want to die?" she asked him, looking from her bloodied shirt to her victim [as he scrambled to his feet]. Clara Bauer vs Damocles Belby Unlike some of the werewolves, Clara did not have any particular target in mind when they got to the house. Mostly she was just excited to be there - she hoped they killed someone, that would be wonderful! These were all bad people, stupid bullies with magic sticks who thought they were better than everyone else because they could do spells. She bound happily into the big room, spotting a man near the big table and course-correcting instantly to leap towards him, wanting to get a hold on him before he could start doing any fancy tricks on her. Damocles wasn't used to be caught in situations where he didn't know what to do beforehand, and unfortunately, this was definitely one of those situations. Still a little in shock from the sudden attack, he took out his wand -- though he wasn't sure if he had the ability to hurt the attackers. He knew, however, that he would have no choice but to defend himself. His mind was still reeling over the fact that this happened on the night they decided to work on the Identification Cards. It had to be the cards that led them here, and while he knew that they had managed to prove this fact, it wouldn't bode well with him at all if this night was going to end badly. His first instinctual decision was to go to the kitchen, where he was fairly certain where his sister was. Damocles was about to turn around and make a dash for it, until he saw Clara leaping towards him. A part of him knew that he could protect himself by throwing out a spell at her, but he was too stunned over the fact that he was being attacked by a vampire. This sort of thing only happened to those who weren't careful -- not him! He managed to move aside just in time before she could land her hands on him --except that he ended up bumping into a few chairs in the process, almost falling down. He regained his balance, mentally telling himself to calm down. His hands shaking a bit, he pointed his wand at the girl and said "Stupefy!" Clara giggled a little as the man fell against the chairs, swinging around to keep her momentum going long enough to get her out of the way when he pointed his stick at her. Whatever the spell was, it passed her by - though only with a few small inches space, and she fancied she could feel it zipping past her, all colour and light and energy. "Silly bunny!" she told him, moving back a little so she could circle him at a safeish distance. She just had to keep watching that stupid stick and not let him hit her with any magics. Then if she could make him drop it it would be better. Changing direction suddenly, she darted at him again, aiming to get in as close as she could and grab anything to keep her there - clothes, hair, the stick, even enough to stop him pointing it at her. The spells was all stuff that went a long way, it would be way harder to hit her if she was too close in! Damocles was starting to feel more nervous when his first spell didn't hit her. She was obviously too fast, but what else was he supposed to do but keep on aiming for spells? As she moved closer, he kept stepping back as fast as he could so there would still be some distance between them. He moved some chairs in front of him (it was odd that a couple of minutes ago, he, Elsie and the others had been sitting on those chairs and talking about the IDs) so that there would be more obstacles in the way, but he doubted that would work very effectively. "Stupefy!" he tried again, attempting to aim the spell more accurately this time. Bunny was very silly if he thought chairs would stop her, though they were an annoyance. It was so much easier when she didn't have to climb over or around things, no matter how adept she was at scrambling up and down trees and rocks and whatever else happened to take her fancy. The distraction slowed her down enough that she caught the edge of the second spell; for half a second she felt fear and anger when she realised she wouldn't be able to dodge it completely, then a wooziness passed over her mind, flickering funnily like tickles of sleep. She wasn't sleepy though and she didn't want to sleep! She shook her head quickly, annoyed, and snarled at the stupid man. "Don't do that! I'll eat you!" Damn it, the spell nearly got her -- but it wasn't enough. He ran around the dining table so that the vampire would be on the other side; at least there would still be some barrier between them. It was going to be a long night if he kept trying to hex her and she kept dodging, but he wasn't going to give up so easily, especially when he knew that there wasn't much of a choice. "You'll eat me anyway!" he snapped back, and threw another Stun Spell towards her. "I'll eat you worse!" Clara threw herself down, wriggling under the table to lunge at his ankles in an attempt to knock him over; she wasn't very heavy but wrestling on the ground would still be better than this stupid running away game. If Dorian was here he would help her, but the stupid people killed him and now he was dead and it wasn't fair. "Stop spelling me! It's mean!" He felt something grab for his ankles, and attempted to kick her hands away, but fell down in the process. Ouch, that hurt. And surprising -- he didn't expect that she would actually go under the table like that. He also dropped his wand -- and fumbled around for it. It couldn't be that far from where he had landed, right? The problem was that it was distracting, trying to find his wand and also trying to kick Clara away at the same time. Gritting his teeth, he aimed a sharp kick with his other leg, directing it on her arm. There was a clatter of wood-on-wood as the stick fell out of the man's hand and Clara crowed in happiness; even his foot hitting her arm couldn't take away too much from her glee, despite the pain. Squirming, she kicked it further out of the way, bending her fingers into crooked claws to scratch at him and hissing angrily. Damocles winced as he felt her claws in his skin, and kicked her again with one leg this time, aiming on her head and attempting to push it down with his leg so that she would stop scratching him. His other hand was still fumbling for his wand -- where was it -- and then his hand landed on something made of wood -- and long -- there it was. He picked it up, pointing it right on to her face, and while his hand was still a bit, he shouted "Diffindo," moving his wand so that it would slash right across her face, hoping that it would distract her from scratching him. The unexpected pain flashed hot across her face and Clara shrieked in hurt and anger, drawing back to clamp her hands to the wound. It was bleeding. She drank that blood, it was supposed to stay inside, and now she was bleeding like an icky human and her arm hurt and her face hurt and he had his stupid wood back! Lashing out in fury, she slapped his face, getting her blood on him at least even if it wasn't enough to make him bleed. He had never used the spell before on a living being and for a moment looked surprised as blood came out of her face, and couldn't dodge in time when she slapped him across his face. It stung, but it didn't hurt that much. He had no time to think of the right spell to use at that moment; she was so close and she could attack him again in a matter of seconds. Damocles aimed his wand at her again, this time directly to her eyes. "Conjunctivus!" Even in her rage-induced adrenalin rush Clara was beginning to realise that she might be slightly ill-favoured in this situation - he was bigger than her and he had stupid spells and it wasn't fair! It was just as she was thinking this that his next spell hit her, her eyesight going funny and then black as her eyes seemed to swell up and go all itchy. She couldn't see anything! As angry as she was, this was simply intolerable, and she recoiled from him, trying to curl in on herself as she attempted desperately to remember her way around the room. "FENR--!" she shrieked, hoping he was within hearing range and free to come and rescue her from this horrible, awful man. Damocles managed to stand up once she was properly hit by the spell -- but holy shit did she just call out for another werewolf? Halfway through her screaming, and hoping beyond hope itself that her voice does not reach the person she was calling, he used the Stun Spell again, releasing a jet of red light out of his wand -- and this time he was definitely close enough. It may not have been as strong on vampires as it was against werewolves and humans, but cast in a moment of desperation at such close range, it was certainly more powerful than it may have been - not, of course, that Clara was aware of any of that. She was aware of that fog coming over her mind again, much worse this time. It was so hard to move: she felt as though she was falling asleep, her grip slackening as her muscles all relaxed and she slumped to the floor. She could barely even summon the energy to be frightened or angry - rather, a vague sort of sleepy confusion as she slipped into a doze. Was she unconscious now? It was a good thing that he only had to fight against her; he didn't want to think of what would have happened if the other vampires or werewolves were ganging up against him. Resisting a shudder, he muttered "Petrificus Totalus" so that if she woke up, she still wouldn't be able to move. Now he had to go and help those who needed it. |