Divine Intervention.

[Varian]

*** Disclaimer/Spoiler: Blood and violence. If you're easily unsettled, this one might not be for you. Otherwise, enjoy! ***

A small carriage had come to a brief pause in its journey. The driver had caught sight of a clearing, just off of the woodland road he had been following through the territory of Myrken Wood. To the protest of his passengers, he assured them the recess was quite necessary, lest the horses not have the energy to complete their transit. So, the deed was carried out; the coach clambered through the higher grass and into the intended area.

The man climbed down from his perch and, after a moment's stretch, went about procuring the feedbag and water pails for the two horses that lead the vehicle. Once he was sure that the animals had been tended to, he too sat to enjoy a drink. The two women within the carriage, none the wiser to the activities beyond the walls that concealed them, they made no further efforts to disturb their driver's decision.

The silence of the forest around them had not concerned the man, as he sat and enjoyed a flask-full of whiskey, smiling at his horses as they continued to indulge in their much anticipated meal. The sky was bright with stars and the clearing he had chosen afforded him a good distance of sight, just past the line of trees that surrounded him and his light caravan.

It wasn't until a rustle in the woods stirred the horses that he glanced in that direction, then the next and all around. Now, he came to realize the eerie stillness. They were deep within the forest by now, for sure and such an unnatural quietude was unsettling, to say the least. After all, the sun had set only an hour ago. Or had it been longer? He was no longer sure of the time they had spent traveling.

When the arrow was loosed from the bow of some well-hidden archer, the man stood quickly and managed to avoid its connection. The second, however, was far more carefully aimed. It struck home at the center of the driver's chest and brought the man to his knees without a sound of pain before he collapsed completely, lifeless.

Satisfied, three men emerged from the timberline and made their way slowly and soundlessly toward the carriage. They were completely oblivious to the contents of the coach, but given the appearance of the thing, it must contain some valuable treasure, a payroll cart from another county perhaps. Then, the door was yanked open and the passengers within screamed in terror.

The three men looked immediately to one another, searching out who was to blame for the mistake. Wordlessly, angrily two reached into the carriage and took hold of a wrist of each of the two women and dragged them out, on to the forest floor. While the women were held restrained, the third man rummaged through the other contents of the vehicle, tossing their luggage and countless other belongings out and on to the ground. He turned back and barked at his accomplices in a harsh, guttural language that neither of the victims could comprehend.

The man turned his back to the others again, as he climbed out of the coach. When he was standing once more, he freed a dagger from the sheath at his belt. The weapon wielded, he turned back to the women and a vicious smile crawled across the rugged features of his dirt-covered face. He approached and as the women began to scream, their captors made no effort to silence the sound.

From the trees emerged a new figure, a sixth in this theatre of tragedy. This new silhouette, clad as it was in dark cloak and cowl, could only be described as tall and thin. As the lithe shadow advanced in an unhurried pace toward the group, the women went suddenly quiet and the man with the dagger glanced over his shoulder curiously.

"Be gone, you. This is not your quarry," the bandit barked harshly, barely able to slam together the syllables of a common tongue. Still, the cloaked one continued forth. A step more, maybe two, but the second blurred and the black-clad creature was upon him.

The sound of the man's throat echoed in the clearing as it was crushed like parchment between the creature's fingers as it lifted him easily from his feet. Cast aside in the same effortless manner, the two other men instantly released their captives, who crumpled at their feet. The men drew their own weapons and a quiet laughter cooed from beyond the depths of the overcast the creature's hood provided. Despite their reservations, they attacked together, diving toward the mass of the other's torso.

The creature responded with a very human arm emerging from the cloak to deflect one man completely, sending him sprawling into the high grass. Before the creature could turn to execute a similar maneuver, the blade of the second man buried securely into its side. A howling cry of pain was cut short by an adapted growl, just before the creature's hand closed about the wrist of the man and twisted the weapon free. The bone of the bandit's forearm snapped audibly as it was bent in the opposite direction and that same blade was drowned in his chest cavity, leaving the creature with but a single opponent.

The cloaked figure placed a hand securely against the wound of his side, while the other withdrew the hood from his head. His eyes lifted to the sky and he forced a breath past his pale, red lips. He turned back toward where he had cast the still living marauder. To his surprise, the man had gathered himself and made his way back to the women, one of which lay bleeding profusely, while the opposite was staring wide-eyed and silent at the youthful man before her, her captor's blade pressed firmly to her throat. Positioned behind the woman, the man dragged the blade across her neck and opened her flesh, then allowed her to fall to the floor of the clearing.

He smiled in satisfaction and before he could lift his eyes back to Varian, the vampire attacked. One hand clutched the bandit's throat, like it had the first, but now the opposite hand forced its fingers past the man's lips and curled under his tongue, to grasp his jaw. The man struggled as best he could, clawing at Varian's chest and biting down on his fingers, but Varian's flesh felt like stone; unaffected.

Varian peered into the eyes of the man, cocked his head to one side and slowly pulled at his lower jaw. The joints gave way, with a sound crack and the man screamed in agony. The vampire continued, until the flesh at the corners of the man's mouth split and seperated. His scream turned to a drowning gargle of blood and suddenly stopped.

For another moment, Varian watched the lifeless eyes of his victim, and then dropped him to the floor. He turned to survey the carnage.

Such effort and no reward.