07 March 2013

Merlin 3:11 “Of Wolf and Man”

Merlin 3:11 “Of Wolf and Man”

The baneful brother Jimson and the woman witch waiting, the spiteful glare of Belladonna with readily poisonous heart, staring at the oracular elves whose eyes pore unfocused and beyond them despite forwardly facing, there are other howling creatures in the surrounding distant opaqueness.

Belladonna: “Do you know that wretched sound, rider?”
Gareth: “Most notably, the heedless cries of beasts.”
Dain: “Without thought or regard, heedless cries, soon to fall by my sword methinks.”
Belladonna: “Do you know us well enough, which we may depart?”
Gareth: “Most notably madam, so shall it be.”
Belladonna: “Then you know to us our passage by lord Weyland, pass we will as agents freely?”
Dain: “Your passage given, we will apart.”

From beyond them, where the air is lapse, the motions of beasts, the supernatural clinging to the moonlight fighting for supplanted reign from what feign is dusk against the awakening darkness, a deadly commotion wherein halves of wolf and man crawl from beneath the soil. A witching lady stands in the darkness with her hand upon a birch tree in the fading light, watching wolf rise and sunset, domineering matron to hellhounds, her hair long and blondish red over layers of grey silk dress, whose bare feet are fair and frozen and unsullied by earth, as she walks watching them depart and where they wend.

Oft most dangerous before full moonset, they rise with hands like raccoons and nails verily sharp, feline eyes furtively betwixt communicate and designate a wolf pack leader, one howl by each creature and many feet begin to trod the spring marsh and rumble in the distance outwardly seek. Quick upon the errant main the werewolves approach without hesitation, empowered by a full moon high.

Dain: “Bear searchers!”

As vows pertain when thus profane, the elves and agents ready their confidence to brusquely battle fear and fervent foes. Large enough to kill a bear in packs of three at more than repartee will fighter need muster equanimous, at the monsters of the deep they watch and ready all. One leaps over Belladonna, halfway to crouching and guarding her face she slices its front side by tip of blade, from the wound a poison envelopes as others encircle, she stabs it as it lay dying, adding more poisonous curse of root-like-veins. Jimson with two daggers stabs into the wolf-like body leaping at him pulled thru air and tackled with abandon, fighting and hammering with fists of knives, rampantly forced beneath fiendish fangs with tacit blades. Dain of two arrows of eyes to his stalking beast of guile and guise; Gareth by sword takes claw as paw from deftly slower creature, a grunting full wroth the blade down slicing takes the arm at other, stumbling, feeble, and unable to move at best on fours the steel soon takes that beast’s head. Dain ends the blinded one with arrows that when second next cross throughout its throat; Gareth opens three throats and bites with blade the hearts of two, with two swords waving gracefully he stares another werewolf that with others flees aversely.

Dain mocks the sound of a hill wolf and Gareth laughs, Belladonna watches her work of rotting nerves and Jimson lays aside his hefty ominous and fallen creature as increasingly slower convulsions of his poison travel thru its veins, purging life to writhe and die. She walks beside the creatures and invokes toxicity to their eyes and hearts, as he climbs to his feet.

The witch of red hair walks into the forest after Sino, her hand pulls at every nearest tree she passes, her emotion tantamount to excitement and commensurately impetuous to sensationally knowing where he is, so much that nature coincides her existence, her bliss of malice resides without anger. Sino reaches the thorny plants that often edge the meadows, the foliage wilts in scorn to bow as he departs. She is close to him and enters the grass at his fiftieth pace hence, the witch who lost her soul to dark illusion on a shipwreck in a spiraling ocean, the body named Nara now the toy of a demon.

Lilith: “My heart beats your name.”
Sino: “A burden meant for death.”
Lilith: “Of this hell I know.”

She walks salaciously and lurid in posture, posing for him tramp and circumspect, slightly opening her robe around the collar, her eyes resemble water.

Sino: “Have before we met, demon?”
Lilith: “I am Lilith, you fool.”
Sino: “Lilith, what favor have you come to ask?”
Lilith: “Breed with me, Sino, beneath the weeping moon.”
Sino: “I have less time for this without worship.”
Lilith: “Fine, your way is else.”

Lilith enwraps herself keeping certain to pose lissome, still provocateur beneath the fabric, her arm and fingers brush her hair behind her exposed shoulder. Her thoughts share supposition of him with sounds of nighthawks and crows aside the sound the werewolves wherewithal most stealthily in haunt, and sounds of suspect paranoia. His eyes suspect conspiracy in the trees as she glances at the full moon over them. 

Lilith: “I was in hell.”
Sino: “Where you have no face…?”
Lilith: “Where I have not face, and waiting for the surface to sulfur, a vampire, a child of all demons came to me weeping. Why then he knew your name?”
Sino: “There is no such crime as killing the dead.”
Lilith: “So says the listless warlock between the fires of Heaven and Hell.”
Sino: “How is Hel (Halle)?”
Lilith: “One that hides…, so immortal and slower than time she says ‘the living look like rotting corpses’, I'm inclined to believe her.”
Sino: “Shall we dance in the moonlight?”
Lilith: “The offer has passed, go, do the things needed, without my passion.”
Sino: “That is truly a sentenced punishment.”
Lilith: “My circumstances are not of import, you will hear from me notwithstanding.”
Sino: “If I must speak with you anon?”
Lilith: “Think of me the next you have a fecund. Mind the berserkers. …You may test him now, uncle.”

She walks from Sino in speaking that, although forewarning, permissive command. The stampede of claws and paws exits the trees at exhaustive speed, he turns to smoke, the full moon, she sinks into the ground feet-first, blowing him a delicate kiss from her fingertips wrist flexibly, and he watches her sink, with her gone over her sinking place. The galloping werewolf leader dives at Sino, but thru the smoke also immediately disparate, rolling over shoulder and rising to contemptuous poise, the war scorn werewolf bodily shifts into a man kept adorned the many battle scars, a calm malaise of cur and curse, nearly as tall as his lupine form had been, wearing only vest and pantaloons. His hair black, his eyes radiantly dark blue, barefoot he stands as the werewolves join him, one of them confused comes closely aside his face to inspect his human body, the man growls preponderantly as if still beast, causing the subordinate to give obsequious respect.