The sun had set hours ago, around the same time that Kristia had began her journey into the forest. She was following the trail of a skinny, sniveling young boy in rags, who was the head of this 'crusade'.
She was grumpy - between the bug bites and misplaced logs that she had to avoid tripping on, this trip was already plenty for her. A low growl rumbled past her lips as she smacked at the back of her neck, squishing an unfortunate mesquito that had tried to make a meal out of her. "Are we close?" She asked the fellow that she followed.
The boy, who's face was caked with dirt and snot, turned and shrugged at her. "I dunno. I dun think it much further then this." He scratched his head, looking around. "But, yanno, them woods all look the same sometimes.."
"You idiot!" She yelled, frusterated. "What am I paying you for if you don't know where the hell we're going?"
He shrugged. She groaned. "Forget it," she muttered, "Just go. I'll find the Clubhouse myself."
"As ya wish, Ma'am," the boy replied, then with a quick tip of his body, he then turned and raced back off towards the town. To safety. Who wanted to be alone in the dark woods with that strange woman anyways?
Of all things, that really got her. Ma'am. Ma'am? Isn't that something you called old woman? Her porcelain cheeks rose to the color of a pale blush, the most her undead body could force. A dhampire, the creature of sloppy vampirism, she had the same traits as vampires.. the fangs, pale skin, long life, strength and speed.. without the consequence of the burning sun and the ability to die from simple wounds.
She grunted, muttering to herself. "Ma'am.. that's ridiculious. I'm not old." But, truth be told, she had far surpassed that boy's age... and most others as well. Her face was young and vibrant, but her soul belonged to a bitter, wrinkled old woman. A sour scowl remained locked on her face as she clunked through the woods. She'd be an easy target to hear - slave collars clanking, boots shuffling dirt and leaves, and her grumbling. Not being particularly sneaking at the moment, she was out to reconnect with old faces. She'd run into rumors of the SA months ago, only to abandon her hunt for other tedious matters. Now, having made another long and tiring trip to Rhydin, she'd caught wind that Tara... and Vicki.. were possibly elsewhere. These woods.. something about Lucius... She couldn't quite get the whole story, but that snot-faced brat and offered the only good lead - some group in the forest where some woman had this crazy doll... Arthur..? It had to be Tara. So there Kristia was, wandering in the woods, huffing and puffing as she looked for some form of life.... behind the bugs...
She was grumpy - between the bug bites and misplaced logs that she had to avoid tripping on, this trip was already plenty for her. A low growl rumbled past her lips as she smacked at the back of her neck, squishing an unfortunate mesquito that had tried to make a meal out of her. "Are we close?" She asked the fellow that she followed.
The boy, who's face was caked with dirt and snot, turned and shrugged at her. "I dunno. I dun think it much further then this." He scratched his head, looking around. "But, yanno, them woods all look the same sometimes.."
"You idiot!" She yelled, frusterated. "What am I paying you for if you don't know where the hell we're going?"
He shrugged. She groaned. "Forget it," she muttered, "Just go. I'll find the Clubhouse myself."
"As ya wish, Ma'am," the boy replied, then with a quick tip of his body, he then turned and raced back off towards the town. To safety. Who wanted to be alone in the dark woods with that strange woman anyways?
Of all things, that really got her. Ma'am. Ma'am? Isn't that something you called old woman? Her porcelain cheeks rose to the color of a pale blush, the most her undead body could force. A dhampire, the creature of sloppy vampirism, she had the same traits as vampires.. the fangs, pale skin, long life, strength and speed.. without the consequence of the burning sun and the ability to die from simple wounds.
She grunted, muttering to herself. "Ma'am.. that's ridiculious. I'm not old." But, truth be told, she had far surpassed that boy's age... and most others as well. Her face was young and vibrant, but her soul belonged to a bitter, wrinkled old woman. A sour scowl remained locked on her face as she clunked through the woods. She'd be an easy target to hear - slave collars clanking, boots shuffling dirt and leaves, and her grumbling. Not being particularly sneaking at the moment, she was out to reconnect with old faces. She'd run into rumors of the SA months ago, only to abandon her hunt for other tedious matters. Now, having made another long and tiring trip to Rhydin, she'd caught wind that Tara... and Vicki.. were possibly elsewhere. These woods.. something about Lucius... She couldn't quite get the whole story, but that snot-faced brat and offered the only good lead - some group in the forest where some woman had this crazy doll... Arthur..? It had to be Tara. So there Kristia was, wandering in the woods, huffing and puffing as she looked for some form of life.... behind the bugs...