Dragoncrest Cliffs i thought i was different but it seems i’m just the same

like the storm above them, wolves collected in the darkness. a furtive glance behind her to the troupe, and then caiaphas motioned silently to erzulie — in the depths of her gaze was a hidden bidding — rusalka’s emblazoned harlot would know what to do. 

rusalka’s siren queen separated from the group, snaking away in the insidious manner of an oil spill. this was her element — her very master class — and a shrill beat of blood pounded through her, echoing the dissonant, blood-pumping peal of a war drum.  

boom, snarled a flash of searing lightning overhead — boom, boom went the singing course of adrenaline through her head. 

and then, the sylph came across them — a band of wolves lurking in the night’s long shadow like hyenas in a pit. 

she smiled, and raised her proud head high. hung on her lips was the grinning sneer of a spectre - a soul that did not fear death, but resigned itself to its own ruin - and that made the wicked she-wolf all the more dangerous as she flung herself into the crowd, aiming directly for the dark female she had met months ago.

like a bullet loosened from some hellsick holster, caiaphas flew — the flare and flash of her fangs illuminated by the thundering glow above. teeth bent on the destruction of drageda hide, meat, sinew, gristle and all.