Fable - Ask Artenhild Afoul

[Sigrith]

In those convening moments after the mists cleared, the wolf lowered her maw into the waning echo of her song and felt her hackles flare again. Time felt slowed as the creature emerged out of the last traces of fog and Darkstride felt the wisp of air give way to its claws, could smell the stench of its breath from its gaped maw, and heard the rasp of savage death in that heated expulsion of breath.

She couldn't move fast enough to intercept but twisted anyway, her own jaw hinging open, snarl erupting in furious fashion as her paws dug into earth and sprung her massive form into the fray. She aimed for its ribs, her maw large enough to ensnare the Vampire completely, strong enough to crush the unlife from it with a clamped bite, heavy enough to tear it away from the man or at the very least send them all to the ground.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

In the creature's clutches, Garrod felt the pull of mortality in his chest. The string of his fate, taught before the thing's fangs.

Down they went. With a cold shiver and a gasp. Sunk straight into his flesh. Hypodermic points plunged easy and deep, and the yaegir felt his spine run with ice.

A voice rumbled deep from within his gut. The hiss of fire wheezed a smoke of laughter.

The vampire retracted her fangs, flickers of green flame sputtered out of the fresh wounds they'd made like angry tongues. She yowled.

But it was all for not. Crunch came the canines of the great wolf. Her jaw a vice that clamped about the Vampire's midsection. Her bulk enough to drive them all to the ground.

The vampire gave out a horrid screech as she tried to tear at the wolf.

Garrod, wide eyed, bleeding from the twin punctures at his nape, remembered himself amidst the daze of being slammed against the floor. Sword still in hand as the two beasts tangled.

Sigrith