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vox_the_viper (vox_the_viper) wrote in anon_rpg,

Vox allowed the Lestrange brothers to take lead as he began throwing up the necessary charms, his concentration unhindered by the frantic screaming around him. Though he was as bloodthirsty as any of the others, and far exceeded many, he'd prepared himself for a group outing rather than a hunt. And on group outings, especially those he had initiated, he had responsibilities beyond his lust. No matter how careful they were not to draw attention to themselves, for instance, the Dark Lord would take it out of his hide if one of his soldiers fell during such foolishness. So, Vox's attention was split between his need for violence and his need to keep an eye on the others.

He spotted a larger gathering of muggles that had rushed to the far aisle to flee, but instead had come up against Evan Rosier while most of the Death Eaters were occupied elsewhere. Deciding that was as good a place as any, Vox stowed his wand within easy reach and pulled his machete. He'd almost brought his dragon slaying sword, because in a church full of people, crowd control was sometimes needed. The Death Eaters had arrived in force, however, so the machete would suffice.

As he crossed the space quickly, all thought beyond his immediate goal fell away, and he chose his prey. There was a large man with strong shoulders and a broad chest. He stood shielding two women, one a wife and the other a daughter, Vox guessed. If he'd had all the time in the world, he would have kept that man for last, made him watch the slaughter of his family, and then bent him over a pew. There were still too many people for theatrics, however, and the man looked to be working himself up into a dangerous rage. The only satisfaction Vox could take was in the fear blossoming in the man's eyes as he drew ever closer; it was over all too quick as Vox fell upon him with a vicious slash across his neck and chest. Before the man hit the floor, Vox had gutted the daughter and gave the wife a sinister grin before kicking her backward, leaving her alive in her torment if only for a short time.

With the large man down and carnage in their midst, the muggles panicked and allowed their numbers to be cut in half. While Rosier handled his group, Vox laid into his own. A shrieking, hysterical woman plastering her against the wall pathetically earned a quick death; with her head pressed to the wall so obligingly, he nearly managed a full decapitation with one swing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the flicker of movement as a middle aged, matronly type, rushed him with a wicked looking candle stick. He allowed her to get closer than he should out of sadistic arrogance, and only at the last minute swung out with the machete, knocking the makeshift weapon from her hand. The attack only fueled his hunger, and since his victims were in the processes of fleeing, he allowed himself the luxury of dropping the weapon and subduing her with a fist to the face. As he wrapped his long fingers around her neck and strangled the life from her, she struggled uselessly, her nails ripping gouges into his arms. Smiling viciously until the life left her eyes, he tossed her aside and retrieved his machete.

With malicious purpose, he scanned the room, searching for weaknesses in their attack, searching for his next victim.