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Post by Dark Lady Avada Kedavra on Apr 18, 2007 20:00:52 GMT 10
The air was crisp and burned her nostrils, but the pain was welcomed. “What doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger, no actually, I don’t agree with that statement,” Avada said as she stood clad in a viper purple cloak trimmed with black gold as she looked ahead of her. There was something likened to a party ahead of them, a bonfire surrounded by the youth of muggles. Avada normally did not mind muggles much, though these were currently tools with only one use; to die.
“What doesn’t kill us should be considered weak and disposable,” she smiled maliciously as he eyes sparkled with cruelty, or was that the reflection of the lights that were now aimed in her direction. She could smell it; “There are Auror’s here this night, my children,” she told them as she looked forward. The lights passed over them without incident though she knew that it was no mistake they had landed on them in the first place.
“Tonight,” she smiled without actually looking at her people; they stood behind her like an army ready to go into battle. The Auror’s of the ministry were foolish. Avada did not care for muggles in the slightest, but they had so carefully set up this ambush that she would not be fool enough to disallow them the opportunity to die, “-we show those weak links in our society that we are not to be challenged, these infections of our kind need to learn a lesson,”
Behind her stood a mass of her own followers, the very best of the best, and tonight her fury would be fed, “We have stayed long in our cave waiting for this opportunity, it is our of luck that the ministry underestimated how many muggles would be here this night, the mess will be awful for them to clean up in the morning,”
To her right was Estelle, and to her left stood Bartholomew. Beyond that she was not completely aware, nor interested in who had come out tonight to play. Her pale and slender hands were already gripping her wand. Her creation would stain the sky a ghostly green this night. And by morning, no one would be fool enough to again believe that Avada Kedavra was to be underestimated.
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Post by Lady Estelle Gatteux IV on Apr 18, 2007 20:36:37 GMT 10
Estelle stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the scene before her. She had largely organised the group of people that stood behind them. It had all been in the name of Lady Avada of course, but she had been the one to rally the small force behind them, and she had left it to Bartholomew to give them the pep talk to enrage them to the proper proportions before they marched.
It was to be an interesting night, if not entertaining. There would be much blood spilt that night and Estelle was trying hard not to smile her wicked smile in anticipation. She was giddy at the thought of marking the territory in the name of her Lady.
Everything Estelle did, she did for Lady Avada and this night was no excteption. Every detail had been carefully planned, though there was certainly room to move within the boundaries. Estelle looked to Bartholomew, and though she could not see his face in the darkness, she knew he would behighly anticipating this raid, feeling much the same as she did.
"Shall we, My Lady?" Estelle inquired to her glorious leader.
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Post by Duke W. Harrison III on Apr 20, 2007 1:29:33 GMT 10
Duke looked through the ranks of the Avada guild, some faces he knew better than others but pretty much all had the one or two things in common; a dark hungry look, and not a hungry that would be satisfied by food but that of destruction and killing. The second thing was they, the guild, all had their hoods up covering their faces, all except Duke that is. This was not a sign of him thinking himself better than other member, although inwardly he did think such it was more a case of wanting to take in everything, the details of it all, the settled silence, the gazes of admiration for their leader. It was common knowledge that more than just a few of them lived for nights like these.
Nights of deviant pleasures of mind and flesh. Duke did know of some male and a few of the more twisted females’ members took a sick pleasure in doing things to their targets, they said it was all part of the experience, the job, the reward. Duke never did such things and never would, he did still have so sense of decorum no matter the company or activities like tonight where he found himself in. That was one line he was not willing to sell his soul to cross.
Being who he was, Duke knew more than he let on, he knew what things made what people ticked, what do to or say to get what he wanted, and he knew when someone was trying to use that against him, but as he watched Lady Avada stand ahead of them a few feet, her mass of loyal subjects waited her instructions with bait breath, more that a few eager to get on with the festivities, hands twitched on sheathed wands, even in the silences a few murmured exchanges of what curses they would use to make the muggles squirm in pain and how to prolong their anguish. Duke couldn’t help but notice from his vantage point as he looked at the gathering that most of them seemed to be his age, around the still young age of twenty dancing to loud music around a bonfire. A brief thought of whether that was what he should be doing instead of standing on a empty hill watching them party, before watching them become lambs to the slaughter.
‘Maybe I shall get to dance with a few of the ladies’ Duke thought to himself, a smirk appearing on his face as the moonlight shone down on the troops, his blonde hair shone white in the pale light making him stand out amongst all the cloaked wizards and witches even more. Duke was knowing jokingly as the ‘dancing death’ within the ranks, for on more often than not he would dance with his victim, before spinning them out looking them in the eye before the curtains closed on their lives. The women found it charming, the men found it amuzing, it was just part of Duke’s routine, although he surmised there would be little to no dancing for him tonight, at least at this venue.
Not fearing the Auror’s for if worse came to worse, he would banish his cloak, undo a button on his shirt and he would blend in with the rest of the party goers, no Duke indeed had nothing to fear for this night but for his life as he decided to ask the one question that had not been previously outlined by the Lady herself nor her generals. So with a deep breath, and a confident step forwards he held his head high, leaving no weakness in his stance.
“My Lady, do we kill all the muggles, or do we leave one to tell of the terror that was unleashed this night by you, by Lady Avada Kedavra?” Duke asked his hands clasped behind his back like a regimented solider.
Duke had a feeling that tonight would be a night he would not be forgetting in a hurry, so as he watched her ladyship, her beauty unquestionably obvious as she was bathed in the moonlight, it was no wonder that she held a such a captivated audience in her loyal followers.
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Post by Bartholomew Malaki on Apr 21, 2007 12:43:09 GMT 10
Bartholomew knew better then to answer a question directed at the Dark Lady, but all the same, he didn’t feel it one necessary to ask. He stood quietly though watching the muggles before him. He didn’t care for muggles at all, though not likened to a Ruberagon. He saw them as sheep, mindless, very stupid, and good for nothing then to use as bait for Aurors. He considered this thought for a moment, knowing this was the same way the Aurora saw them, regardless of whether they thought they felt that way about them or not, it was the way it appeared.
Bartholomew could sense other presence among the muggles before them though, it seemed off to him that there would be so few Aurora present, though if this was perhaps because they did not feel that Avada herself would be in attendance then they had made a very large mistake. One that would cost most of them their lives.
“He is here, my lady” he spoke to Avada from her left and looked out towards the muggles. Many faces were alight by the glow of the flames, nameless faces that meant little more then the physical packages they would leave behind when Bartholomew and the others were through with them.
The person he spoke of was tonight’s target. Ministry intel had led them to know exactly who was running tonight’s operation against the Guild, and Lady Avada could not have appeared happier when Bartholomew brought her the news. Arutha ConDoin would be present this night, and into the custody of the Guild of Avada would he soon be.
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