RP: Full moon attack Who: Werewolf pack (leader: Romulus), NPC wizaring family Albert, Carol, Bradley, Johanne and Adam Waterhouse) , Ronan, Dylan, James, Callahan, Ignatius, Jasper Where: Outskirts of Helmsley, Yorkshire. When: November 2, until sunrise Rating/Warnings: NC-17 (violence, rape of a minor, murder, cannibalism, torture...) Summary: The werewolf pack attacks again, but this time someone is on their trail.
The scene was familiar by now: the trees amongst which they hid themselves, the small isolated cottage in front of them, the sound of the river nearby. But tonight they waited longer, letting the moon rise high before they moved.
And then it was time and the let out their collective howls and the people below stirred as they were supposed to do. Two adults, three children – one girl which would become their new omega. They were ready.
The wolves ran fast, aiming for the windows, crashing in on the family – the father of which already had his wand out. The mother was holding the youngest boy, ushering her daughter and older son towards the fireplace. “Go!” she shouted. “No Bradley, you’re not fighting, take Adam and go.” But she had no control of the boy, and he pushed passed her, wand in hand, raised ready to throw the first hex.
Romulus wasn’t sure if their hexes hit or not, useless as they were from both father and son. He bounded for the father while two others bounded for the boy, striking him to the floor as a sparks erupted from his wand. It fell to the floor with a clatter that was drowned in the ten-year-old girl’s screams of horror as she’d frozen in front of the fireplace, too scared to move before it was too late and the jaws of the werewolf was closing around her leg and pulling her down.
“NO!” The shouts were loud and desperate but the mother could to nothing to protect her children. Her son was on the ground writing in pain with a broken arm and knees crushed by powerful jaws. Her daughter was fighting a losing battle with the wolves tearing at her clothes, leaving them in pieces on the floor as they held her down with their paws and the threat of their bite. The father was already dead, Romulus had cared little for him, but much more for the rest of the scene. One of the pack was feeding on him, but he himself was focused on the terrified mother, her arms around her son as one in the pack played a game of tug of war with her. “Let go of him!” she shouted, holding onto the screaming child for dear life, as if she could possibly save him.
Bounding over to the mother, Romulus snapped at the other wolves, making them let go of the clothes of the child and step aside. If he could have smiled he would have as he circled her, allowing her to hold onto her precious burden. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but there were no screams left in her. Her eldest was badly bleeding, too injured to move and shouting to the males of the pack to leave his sister alone as they took turns amusing themselves with her body. The girl wasn’t even fighting anymore, her eyes wide with horror, tears wetting her face and blood wetting the inside of her thighs. The boy in the mother’s arms was held so tightly that he could barely breathe, but the mother barely noticed as she backed up against the wall, pleading for the life of her youngest.
Bending his head, Romulus looked at her from below, then with one swift movement of his head, she, like her son, had no knees to speak of any longer. A tortured scream filled the air as she fell helplessly, her beloved son, falling with her, a crack as he broke something or another. Still Romulus did not touch the boy, but proceeded to eat from the woman’s thighs. Another wolf joined, and yet another and her screams mingled with the screams of her injured sons, and the sobs of her raped little girl.
They were in no hurry now, taking their time feeding on the soon dead woman, playing with the girl, listening to the tormented screams of the eldest son, desperate to protect the sister that was now barely conscious.
Then, just as the mother died and it was time to kill the boys and leave, a new scent, a new presence. A dangerous one. He would recognise it anywhere, another werewolf, one which posed a threat. Barking, he caught the others attention, throwing his head to show to leave now, not later, to leave it all. Four of his pack would stay and fight, the rest would run, all according to a well rehearsed plan. Run, separate, into the river but different directions, run until the sun is up then get far away as soon as you can. They all knew what to do and if they did it right, there would be one less threat to them next full moon.