RP: Fight Like a Brave
Characters: Rodolphus Lestrange, Dreizhen (NPC), various NPC werewolves
Location: Outside of Lorraine, France
Date: April 23rd 2000
Status/Warning: Private/ none
Summary: Having stayed behind to further convince the werewolves, Rod thinks about his mission and confronts Bella's sudden reappearance.
Completion: Complete
As cliche as it might have seemed, Rodolphus loved watching the sun rise. That morning it rose silently and savanah red, illuminating low patches of fog until they burned like hovering flames. Around him, the rest of the Caern began to stirr, a hundred tired, hungover, miserable hounds far too accumstomed to late hours than early. Rabastan was no doubt basking in city life again, and as it stood it was the least Rod could give him. Things had never been easy, but until the mission was carried out, they were only going to get harder and less compatible to the kind of fugitive life Rabastan was used to having.
'And what are you going to do after your great mission?' A familiar voice sneered, breaking Rod's concentration as he tried to peice together a bleached heron skeleton he hadn't known he'd fallen asleep by. 'You're no crusader, even those mongrels know that.'
"Why are you doing this?" Rodolphus asked, resuming his search for a wing joint.
'Don't ask me that. You're the one who--
"Am I, Bella?" His voice sharpened, but didn't raise--Too many around him were already complaining about the alcohol-enhanced whispering of others. "Or is this another sadistic little game, like teaching Draco occulmency...if you called that teaching."
Bella laughed the same cackle he heard in the wake of nearly killing Ecclasia--of course there were other points of reference, but that particular peal had been reserved for victims--not each other.
'I always thought 'til death do us part' was too nice a sentiment for us.'
"What?" Rod froze, his gloved fingers poised above the tiny, crushed skull of the animal. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing," Dreizhen huffed, joining Rod on the moist ground. "As morbid as ever."
"And you still haven't bathed." Rodplphus rejoined instantly. "When will it be safe to try talking to them again?"
Dreizhen made as if to smell himself and then chuckled a little hoarsely. There had been a lot of yelling going on lately. News of Fenrir Greyback's demise and the silly census the new Minister was conducting had prolonged the Caern much longer than planned. Rodolphus had forgotten how deranged lycanthropic politics could be. If anyone wished to act alone, they risked expulsion from the pack, so in essence, if anything was going to get accomplished he had to convince everyone there.
"Moontears said she and her pack would back you before she passed out the other night," the wolf reported, playing with his top-knot. "And if she's with you so is Lavinia and so is Abel Morningkill--and those are some pretty big names for only being here a few days. Now you only need to tell me how you expect to get us back into London unnoticed."
For a long moment Rodolphus sat in silence, trying to figure out which side the wing bone he's found went on.
"I need to make sure a few things are prepared first, but there are a number of options--polyjuice potion, facial transfiguration, but more importantly is what exactly you do when you're there."
"Which is?"
"Every month, I want a series of isolated attacks, never more than one or two. And when the hospital finally can't handle the load--we attack the hospital and free our new brothers and sisters." Rodolphus replied, the ghost of a smile working it's way across his features. Completely shattering the relative stillness of the morning, Dreizhen roared in laughter, causing a number of empty bottles to be thrown at him from those just waking.
"Great wolves..." the man repeated, standing and shaking his head. "Woulda made damn good wolves."
Location: Outside of Lorraine, France
Date: April 23rd 2000
Status/Warning: Private/ none
Summary: Having stayed behind to further convince the werewolves, Rod thinks about his mission and confronts Bella's sudden reappearance.
Completion: Complete
As cliche as it might have seemed, Rodolphus loved watching the sun rise. That morning it rose silently and savanah red, illuminating low patches of fog until they burned like hovering flames. Around him, the rest of the Caern began to stirr, a hundred tired, hungover, miserable hounds far too accumstomed to late hours than early. Rabastan was no doubt basking in city life again, and as it stood it was the least Rod could give him. Things had never been easy, but until the mission was carried out, they were only going to get harder and less compatible to the kind of fugitive life Rabastan was used to having.
'And what are you going to do after your great mission?' A familiar voice sneered, breaking Rod's concentration as he tried to peice together a bleached heron skeleton he hadn't known he'd fallen asleep by. 'You're no crusader, even those mongrels know that.'
"Why are you doing this?" Rodolphus asked, resuming his search for a wing joint.
'Don't ask me that. You're the one who--
"Am I, Bella?" His voice sharpened, but didn't raise--Too many around him were already complaining about the alcohol-enhanced whispering of others. "Or is this another sadistic little game, like teaching Draco occulmency...if you called that teaching."
Bella laughed the same cackle he heard in the wake of nearly killing Ecclasia--of course there were other points of reference, but that particular peal had been reserved for victims--not each other.
'I always thought 'til death do us part' was too nice a sentiment for us.'
"What?" Rod froze, his gloved fingers poised above the tiny, crushed skull of the animal. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing," Dreizhen huffed, joining Rod on the moist ground. "As morbid as ever."
"And you still haven't bathed." Rodplphus rejoined instantly. "When will it be safe to try talking to them again?"
Dreizhen made as if to smell himself and then chuckled a little hoarsely. There had been a lot of yelling going on lately. News of Fenrir Greyback's demise and the silly census the new Minister was conducting had prolonged the Caern much longer than planned. Rodolphus had forgotten how deranged lycanthropic politics could be. If anyone wished to act alone, they risked expulsion from the pack, so in essence, if anything was going to get accomplished he had to convince everyone there.
"Moontears said she and her pack would back you before she passed out the other night," the wolf reported, playing with his top-knot. "And if she's with you so is Lavinia and so is Abel Morningkill--and those are some pretty big names for only being here a few days. Now you only need to tell me how you expect to get us back into London unnoticed."
For a long moment Rodolphus sat in silence, trying to figure out which side the wing bone he's found went on.
"I need to make sure a few things are prepared first, but there are a number of options--polyjuice potion, facial transfiguration, but more importantly is what exactly you do when you're there."
"Which is?"
"Every month, I want a series of isolated attacks, never more than one or two. And when the hospital finally can't handle the load--we attack the hospital and free our new brothers and sisters." Rodolphus replied, the ghost of a smile working it's way across his features. Completely shattering the relative stillness of the morning, Dreizhen roared in laughter, causing a number of empty bottles to be thrown at him from those just waking.
"Great wolves..." the man repeated, standing and shaking his head. "Woulda made damn good wolves."