Blood Exodus

OOC: Greetings my fellow werewolves. In an effort to put a fun spin on our upcoming clan merger, I, at the request of our much beloved Lady Acacia, am beginning a short role play to commemorate the event. Feel free to join in and add your experience to clan history!

IC: The laughter of the vampire lord and his minions still echoed in the minds of the wounded lycanthropes. Human slaves lay dead, drained of their blood, while many werewolves whined in pain and licked their wounds.

And all the while, Cromwell Manor burned.

Gloomfang stared at the inferno that had been the ancestral home of the Cromwell line and snarled fiercely, shrugging off the pain of his wounds even as they began to close.

Lifting his terrible head, he howled to the icy orb of Luna. Yet again the leech Darius had escaped his vengeance.

"By the Crawling Chaos and the Great Mother," he growled, "we will have our revenge. So swears Gloomfang the Devourer!"

OOC: A wonderful idea!!

IC: Tending the silver tainted wounds of some of the Lycans kept her hands busy as her mind spun like a whirlwind... The howl of Gloomfang stirring the ire within her... her blood boiling in anger as the Manor burned.

"Vengence will be ours..." Earthidil whispers, bitterness making her normaly musical voice cold and husky. The wounded Lycan she tends to looks up at her, sensing she wasn't speaking to him and his eyes widen as her brown eyes begin to glow amber... She feels the call of her guide, Michael.

'Come Earthidil...' He whispers through her mind. 'We have much to do...'

Standing to heed his call, she glances once more at the burning Manor, a wall crumbles and sparks burst like an explosion of stars... The darkened form of Gloomfang tears at her heart as she feels his pain... "I promise my Lord... we will have revenge..."

She turns and disappears in a cloud of green smoke to begin her preperations...

IC: The Lady Acacia stands staring at her home as it burns... she hears the cries of the wonded...her clawed hands opening and closing like steel traps... her eyes burning blue fire... She smells the wretched Darius on the wind... her anger begins to roil to the surface... Her clan defeted and nearly destroyed... Tears of blood spill down her face... she lifts her muzzle to Luna and howls her sorrow...

As Gloomfang approaches her... she turns to him, "My Lord What will we do now? I fear this is just the beginning, Darius is relentless in his pursuits."

IC: LordInfamous silently watches the fire. With each passing second, he grows angrier and angrier, within one minute he is boiling with rage. "Revenge", he growls. He is brought out of his trance by two ear-piercing howls, he recognizes them. His two closest allys, Gloomfang, and TheLadyAcacia. He makes a solemn vow to himself. He will do whatever it takes, even if it means his own destruction, to punish whoever brought this pain to his friends. As he gazes toward Luna, his mouth forms an evil smile.....

IC: Gloomfang's eyes swim back into focus as he regards his consort. For a split second, an indescribable expression washes over his features.

His eyes seem like vermilion pits, allowing a glimpse into a realm hitherto unperceived by all save those hilarious elder gods who gibber beyond the farthest spheres of unknown chaos. Acacia and Lord Infamous know that to gaze too long is to court insanity even beyond the wayward passions of the werewolf. And so they dutifully lower their gaze as the lord of Tower Crag allows his Father's mindless discord to flow out from him.

For a moment, there is just a hint of the thin accursed piping of disharmonious flutes...

Then The Devourer's snarl breaks the spell and his friends jerk their heads up in expectancy. Gloomfang's eyes once again burn lower, filled with the too-glorious effulgence of never-ending deathlust.

"Vengeance, yes," he says, his voice a near-subsonic microseism. Then he sniffs the air. "And we will obtain it and more.

"My comrades!" he roars. All who are within earshot begin to gather to him, some still limping as their powers of healing still mend otherwise mortal wounds. "Rouse your vaunting veins. Bristle your courage up. Moons ago, I came to this spot, was raised up by your fair lady, and ascended to her side. And I say to you that I was not angry since I came among you UNTIL THIS INSTANT!!"

Gloomfang's roar is like a blast of omnipotent fulmination, cracking the already shattered panes of the burning manor house and sending the creeping things in the underbrush scampering away in fear and pain. The spittle flies from his muzzle as his fangs and claws flash like white gold. "Come my brothers and sisters, children of the Great Mother! Open your hearts to my Father! Let your thoughts be swept away beyond all darkness. Follow your lady and me to Tower Crag. Kill and devour all that stands in your way. Tear all to pieces!"

Every werewolf that hears the words begin to feel strange, euphoric.

Joyful.

Such power, such rage, such hunger.

"By Azathoth! Our enemies know not what they have roused this night! We shall, by the Outer Gods, strike down the crown of Mount Blood itself."

Ia, Azathoth! Sebai Tsgthnahl!

One mighty leap and Gloomfang has sprung to the pinnacle of a mighty hemlock, clinging to its uttermost branches and gesticulating wildly with one hand, his eyes casting a hell light on all his rapt listeners. In a fit of rage, he draws razor-sharp claws across his chest, lifting his bloody hand to the heavens, bellowing his challenging oration.

Obscene joy fills their hearts. It is as if their lord feeds them with his own flesh.

It is good to be a werewolf!

"This mock of our enemies will mock a thousand widows out of their dear husbands; mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down; and some yet ungotten and unborn shall have cause to curse their scorn of us.

"Mount Blood and the accursed children of the never-named have awakened the sleeping claw of war. Tonight as we run blows the filthy and contagious clouds off heady murder, spoil and villainy!

"Run with me!!"

With an impact that shakes the ground, Gloomfang lands on his haunches and springs toward the Lycanwood.

IC: With one final look as Cromwell manor burns and crumbles to the ground Lady Acacia turns to the reminents of her clan. "We join Gloomefang at Tower Crag."

within the blink of an eye she has disapeared in to the woods... Gloomfang herars her whisper, "We are following my love"...