Mortal Wolf Festival Celebration

[Aradath D'Lagen]

Aradath snapped his staff into a defensive position. "You underestimate me, daemon. You are a creature of the dark, and will be brought to justice by my light!" He stepped back, allowing his crystal to glow in its bright rainbow of colors. Tobias wasn't here, so he didn't have to keep an eye on him. Perfect, he could now release the fullness of his abilities without being distracted.

"Prepare yourself," he snarled. "You will not be around much longer to see my abilities again." He snapped his staff forward as if he were going to hit him with it, but released a flash of light instead when the crystal was in the Vampire's face. "I will not allow for you to bring an innocent to harm, churl!" He snapped his staff to the side, allowing its crystal to glow a pure white light, keeping the vampire within its radiance. Vampires were creatures of the night, light should hurt them.

He was preparing a spell at the back of his mind, the grand illusion spell. It was the highest level spell that he knew, and he would not use it unless it became completely necessary for their escape. For now, he cast a lesser form of the spell, mirror image, creating three new illusionary versions of himself, which as he moves, moved with him. Soon he was entirely mixed up with the versions of himself, all of them now brandishing a shining light at the creature.

[Illyr Norec]

Illyr gasped with relief as Reatcher flinched away from the light, pushing the girl roughly with his foot as he fled.
Blood glistened on her face where it had dripped from his mouth. "Why did he run?" She felt the words spill outward, cracking roughly.
"Th-thank you." She tried to smile. Her frozen lips split. She tasted blood in her mouth, the coppery tang stinging her cheeks.
She tried to sit up, the snow had melted into her cloak. The thick wool smelled like...wet dog. Squinting up at those who surrounded her, Illyr felt dizzy. How much blood had she lost? A pint? Maybe two? It seemed like so much...
And she had wanted it. Even after she screamed, her arms had tightened around his shoulders, urging his fangs deeper into the vein. Was that an effect of the endorfins, or her own sick fetish?
Her eyes narrowed against the glaring lights of the festival, her heart hammering feebly in the trees.

[Gerhardt of Nuro]

Well, well, well. Look at that. Another light mage. This one had considerable power. Ger was impressed. His own abilities as a mage were not nearly so developed. But then, he could probably run circles around the old man if it came down to a fight. What mattered at the moment was that he was saved from having to ‘do the right thing’. Gerhardt looked at the victim girl with a neutral expression, but disdain filled his heart. “The vampire will only go kill another,” Ger remarked mildly as he slid up beside Rosalind. He looked at her with an unreadable expression.

Ger was not a good man, but he had grown up with Rosalind. He did not feel the same disdain towards her as he did towards the rest of the world. He did not know how he felt about her. “I saw you and followed your voice. I am glad to find you well, Rosalind.” It was strange to see her again. She looked so…gypsy. And he was wearing mage robes and dressed as though he had plenty of money to spare. He felt a small stab of guilt. “How is my mother?” He had only been gone for seven months, but who knew what could happen during that time?

In seven months Ger had gone from emotionless gypsy boy to emotionless mages apprentice and bounty hunter in training. See Rosalind there, at the party, reminded Ger how knew he was to this whole world. It was mildly disconcerting, but he pushed that aside. Father would simply tell him to focus. Focus seemed to be the key to everything. Physical focus had taught him how to fight. Mental focus would teach him how to use his magic. Despite the fact that he boasted the skills of a mage, Ger wasn’t all that close to gaining control of his abilities.

[Aradath D'Lagen]

Aradath sighed slowly, allowing the illusions of himself to fade. "I am too old. I would never be able to catch him." His eyes narrowed in anger. "Damnable creature of darkness!" He was quick to kneel by Illyr. "Try to move as little as possible. You have no doubt lost a lot of blood."

He ignored the other two at the moment, keeping their images in the back of his mind for future reference. A gypsy, and a mage. He didn't look close enough to know what he was a mage of, but he knew that it wasn't of light. He reached down into his pouches, withdrawing a small flask. "Allow me to help. As a mage of light, I am well trained in dealing with such creatures..." He reached down to the pouches around his waist. "Blood loss..."

He was well versed in herb lore, as healing and light often went hand in hand. He took a pinch of a leafy green herb, pinching the delicate leaves between his fingers before dropping it in the flask, followed by a pinch of a ground brown powder.

"Drink this," he ordered, handing her the flask. "The herbs I mixed with this alcohol will help speed up your body in replenishing the blood you lost." He shifted slightly, frowning. "We should get you inside, where it's warm."

[Illyr Norec]

Illyr dully heard the voices murmering int eh background, her blanched face patchy with cold. Her nose wrinkled at the herbs, mind working. Light mage. Great. And one of those "hippity-hoppity, I shall damn you to thw abyss!" Wonderful!
Her eyes tried to slide shut but she fought to hold them open, her tongue moving across her dry lips. "I'm a Healer. I can take care fo myself, thank you." She tried to slip out as politely as possible. Her tongue didn't want to work. It sounded like a muffled load of gibberish mixed with spicy mustard.
She coughed, clearing her throat and tried again her voice quiet against the wind whistling through the copse of trees. "I'm fine." She managed, eyes narrowed.
The lights glared against the white of the snow, sending criss-crosses of neon colours into her line of vision. Damn, near-sightedness sucked.

[Rosalind Tarana]

Rosalind had watched in shock as light burst through the trees, the source being the elderly man that had come to help. Light mage? She knew little about mages or the magic they used; her own, as a Shaman, was quite different. But it fitted and in any case it had worked and the gypsy gasped in relief.

Fortunately the man seemed to know far more about what to do than she did; her interruption of the scene had been her only requirement and for that she was grateful. Dying at the hands of a vampire was not high on her list of priorities. The mage even seemed versed in healing so the girl was about to leave to find the protective circle of firelight and warn her parents of the presence of a vampire close by, however a distraction cleared the thought completely from her mind. In fact, she experienced something like shock when Gerhardt - Ger, of all people! - appeared beside her without warning. Her jaw dropped and she stared blankly at him for a few moments without speaking, brown eyes wide.

"Gerhardt? What...I didn't expect to see you here!" She moved instinctively to hug him - she'd known him for nearly sixteen years, grown up with him and danced with him, and yet something held her back and she refrained. He'd always been distant and even sixteen years together had not melted his frosty independance. She settled for a radiant smile.

"Your mother? She is well, for the most part. I think she misses you but she doesn't speak of your leaving often." Her tone carried no accusation - she had seen from the beginning that he had not fitted in with the troupe. Quite apart from his appearance, he had not immersed himself in the culture and tradition as she had so easily done.

"We all miss you." The addition was unexpected even to herself, but it was the truth. The rib-bone hanging at her throat burnt hot for a moment but all she saw around Ger was haze. She had always found him difficult to read, and her thought-reading was unpredictable at the best of times. She stopped trying; one learnt plenty from regular conversation, anyway.

"How have you been these past months?"[/color][/font]

[Gerhardt of Nuro]

"We all miss you."

Those words hit him harder than expected. For some reason, Ger had convinced himself that the others would be happy to see him off. Perhaps that was his way of coping. Although he had never fit in among the troupe, they were still his family. Maybe there was a part of him that loved them. If there was, Ger did not want to think about it. He dreaded seeing his mother at the festival. He did not want to see her cry. “I have been better than ever before,” he told her, “I am studying to be a mage now and am also learning to fight.”

The urge to dance with her struck him quite suddenly, and far too strongly for his taste. For old time’s sake, he thought. No. Gerhardt of Nuro did not enjoy dancing. Why should this be any different? He hoped the hesitation was not showing through his carefully constructed mask of nothing. He was glad that his gypsy blood meant that the flush of heat in his cheeks did not show up against his tanned skin. He had not meant for his past and his present to collide so strongly. It was too soon.

He was saved by the change in music. This was not dancing music. Everyone began to gather and become quiet. And old women dressed in a white dress with a wolf skin cloak approached the fire. She through her arms out as though embracing the cold night as well as all the people gathered before and around her. “Listen! Even tonight the wolves howl for rich meat.” Her arms slowly dropped down to her side as everyone paused to listen. Personally, Ger thought this whole ceremony was pointless. “They come for our livestock and our children. Tonight, we will show them we are not afraid.”

People cheered. Of course they did; they were drunk for the most part. “Tonight, Illyr will dance the Honored Dance that will show the wolves our bravery. I ask the chosen one to step forward and into the light so that the dance may commence.” Ger watched as many people instinctively took a step backward, as though that were necessary to prove they were not this Illyr person. The music was playing a mysterious vamp. It was pretty, but Ger hoped Illyr was not too far away or else the mysterious vamp would become quite annoying.

[Rosalind Tarana]

Rosalind watched his face as he spoke, looking for the tiny flickers of expression that would betray true feelings. She was good at this; people could hide many things but the minute movement of eyes, the twitch of a muscle in a cheek, the delicate wrinkling of a brow, they all told her the truth. Ger was too good for her though - apart from a moment of hesitation which she could not decipher, he retained his expressionless mask.

"I have been better than ever before."
She smiled at those words, the flicker of sadness she felt at his leaving drowned by her pleasure in his happiness. That was what was important, after all. In the end, everyone deserved happiness. If Gerhardt had found it she was pleased for him.
"You are a mage now? Life has become exciting for you, Ger. I'm glad to hear it." She held her tongue despite the fountain of questions bubbling at her lips - the elder was speaking, and the time of the Wolf Dance had arrived. Without even her noticing it Ger had lead her back to the firelight, away from the darkness and fear of the night where wolves and vampires lurked.

Reluctantly the gypsy turned to watch the speaker and await the arrival of the dancer. So many things they could have spoken of! But for now, it would have to wait.

[Aradath D'Lagen]

There were many things that crossed Aradath's mind at that moment. 'Ungrateful brat,' may or may not have been among them. Instead he settled for a vague nod, stepping back from Illyr. "Very well then. I only wished to make sure you were alright. Even healers need some help after being attacked by a vampire of all things." He turned stiffly away, hands tightening around his staff. "If you need no further assistance, I have an apprentice to get back to."
Oh yes, the words ungrateful brat were definitely on his mind now.

[Gerhardt of Nuro]

Ger smiled at Rosalind’s words. He knew her well enough to know that she meant them. Ger had spent his entire life dreaming of a different one. Now that he had it, his heart ached for what he lost. Not that there was any regret. This was the life Ger was meant to lead. He truly felt as though he belonged with his father. The loyalties he felt towards the gypsies surprised him. He felt softened and far more comfortable around Rosalind than he had before. Perhaps it was the confidence of finding his true calling that allowed him to feel at ease.

He was no longer a black sheep among a field of white sheep. He was a black sheep among black sheep who happened to know and appreciate the white sheep, appreciate them in a way he could not appreciate anyone else. He felt content standing there with Rosalind beside him. He still did not want to see his mother. He feared her reaction. No, what he really feared was his own reaction. Ger had never been soft, had never been weak. Never. Now that he had experienced loss…Well, things were different. Ger could not feel nothing towards his family as he could towards everyone else.

There it was. He had to admit it. He lov—no. The bounty hunter shut down his mind. Love made one weak. He would not think of such things. Even the relationship between he and his father was not based off of love. They had only been together for a few months, after all. That was precisely the reason his father had waited so long to fetch him. He did not want a loving bond to form, but rather one based off of loyalty, respect, and duty. They were disposable to each other.

“Exciting,” he murmured, repeating her words, “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” His words did not carry very far and Ger was not sure if Rosalind would be able to hear them or not. People were still talking quietly amongst each other while they waited for Illyr to take her place in the firelight. It was not loud, but it was not quiet either.

[Illyr Norec]

Illyr felt a growl rise in her throat. Her hand flew to a small dagger on her belt, but she paused, stepping away from tha mage toward a group of people her own age. Maybe some...Younger people would sooth her nerves.
"Shit." She hissed, whiping away the blood coating her neck and mouth. When it was gone she politely tapped a man on the shoulder, the one the Light Mage had conveniently started toward when finished with herself.
"Uhm...Hey?" She said quietly. Not quite loud enough for the others to hear. She had a slightly forced grin on her face. Perhaps her wild eyes could save her from explaining the stain of blood on her neck and face?
No doubt the Light Mage over there would be /happy/ to fill this man in. An apprentice, huh? In the art of Light. Might as well stick with them, right? After all...If vampires ran from them, no doubt other things did. Other, darker, bloodier things.
She shivered despite the heavy cloak slumped around her shoulders. Her eyes were narrowed slightly against the lights and her ears rang from the laughing, ringing, and banging coming from the whole area. It made her want to slam a fist against her head to stop.

[Tobias Lysand]

Tobias turned, startled. "O-Oh?" Why was someone talking to him? This was almost as strange as Aradath randomly approaching him to use his magic scenery artifact. He knew that Aradath had cast some powerful magic, he had sensed it, but why? He turned his gaze to the person who had tapped his shoulder. Her wild gaze made him feel a bit nervous really. It reminded him unpleasantly of a barmaid who had tried to do unscrupulous things to him... He forced the thought away from his mind for the time being. "Er... Who are you?" He would have introduced himself, but she was kind of scaring him. His gaze traveled away from her, focusing on his master, who was searching for him as well. Upon spotting him, Aradath made his way over, brows furrowing upon seeing Illyr.

[Gerhardt of Nuro]

Time was ticking away and still there was no sign of the dancer. There was nothing unusual about this. It took time for word to spread that everything was ready, and then the Honored One had to drop whatever he or she was doing and push their way through the crowd to get there…etc. Even so, those nearest the fire were already getting restless. Whispers of “Illyr? Do you know Illyr?” were spreading through the crowd. One drunk man even shouted the name. “Oy, Illyr! Whereyu at?” Those further away from the fire were just barely starting to realize what was going on.

Slowly, the crowd began to tighten and become more suffocating as more and more people pushed closer to the fire. They all wanted to see the dancer and the dance. The elder stood silently, patiently waiting. After years of experience she knew how such things worked. Word would spread around eventually. Her eyes seemed to encompass them all as she gazed outward, her body enveloped in serenity. A few drunk people got into a small fight over personal space, but seemed to get over it pretty quickly. Everyone was sharing the same problem. There were a lot of people there.

Ger was patient. He stood in a neutral position that did not betray his disinterest, but also wove no lie of excitement. He was simply there. He felt a little more relaxed with Rosalind beside him. Instinctively, his eyes scanned through the crowd and searched out the other members of his troupe. He spotted his mother in the far corner and stiffened a little. A numbing frost blew through his body, probably to protect him from feeling too much. Emotions were one of those things Ger’s father was teaching him to overlook. Mostly, this was not an issue. Things were different when family was involved.

[Rosalind Tarana]

Rosalind shifted as the atmosphere grew slowly more tense, stepping back slightly from the restless crowd. For someone so sensitive to emotions this sort of atmosphere was almost overwhelming. A kind of side effect to her Grandmother's gift seemed to be that it activated without her express command at times so hazy images floated among the milling, uneasy people; flickering flames, flashes of red for impatience and anger and excitement, black for those that felt trapped and frightened. Her world was one of ghosts and images that no-one else saw - it could be confusing, at times.

The gypsy glanced up at Ger, much taller than her less-than-impressive stature, when she felt him tense alongside her with that same sensitivity. Absurdly enough she saw the sudden spirit-like image of a large cat swim infront of his face for a moment and it struck her that Gerhardt was something like the silent, deadly predator now. Unreadable. Powerful.

She followed his gaze to his mother. The woman, despite Rosalind's earlier assurances, clearly missed her son. She spoke less now, and smiled rarely. Her music was unaffected and she still performed beautifully but Rosalind knew she still carried some weight of grief. She saw Ger's image every time she looked in the sad gypsy eyes.
"I think she'd like to see you, Ger. She'll feel better knowing you're well, even if you have to leave again right away." Her voice was gentle, and the suggestion only that - a suggestion, nothing pushy or demanding. There was no use forcing someone into something and although she could put the idea in Ger's head magically that this would be a good thing to do, she didn't. Rosalind very seldom used that aspect of her abilities - what right did she have to influence people's decisions? Besides, seeing his mother was something Ger needed to decide on for himself. It might not be good for the mage himself even if it would help his mother. Despite his cold indifference, Rosalind guessed that he might still feel some loyalty to family and being reminded of how his leaving had hurt...she didn't want to hurt him in the process of helping another.
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[Illyr Norec]

Illyr felt a knot tighten in her stomach. "Sorry. First person I met here was dead, and the other a Vampire. Not much to this place." She tried to look calm, but when her name rang through the crowd she felt an arm on her shoulder. Some burly man was pulling her into the crowd. It was suffocatingly hot among the bodies and people were laughing. At her.

Her face burned as she was thrust into the center of the crowd, by a blazing fire. Faces were turned toward her, some laughing, others jeering in anger or frustration.
"Dance, dance, girl! Dance, foolish girl!" They screamed. She stood, stunned staring at their face. Reaching a for her satchel, she pulled out a handful of blue powder. It sizzled as she let it drop around her, bright purple smoke enveloping her body. She reatched for more, the contents this time a blinding white.

It caught up in the wind, creating whatever image the crowd wanted to see. For most, it was of her dancing, mostly enticing the viewer to dance with her. Others it was of family members- wives, girlfriends, fiance's...all the like. She tried to smile, but the smell of cooking sherry overwhelmed her. She felt dizzy, slightly moody.

The smoke faded and men groaned in sadness, women cheered and children screamed in delight. She gave a short bow before scooting off the stage of snow into the crowd. People were clapping her on the back, some trying to hold her still. By the time she was free of them, she was puffing for breath.
"Hi again." She breathed once she reached Tobias. Aradath was nearer, and she gave him a weak smile. "Sorry I walked away...Pulled away, rather. I forgot about the danse. I got the letter last week..." She mumbled, brushing back a peice of rather unruly hair.