Post by Deleted on Aug 20, 2013 1:34:59 GMT -5
while everyone SCREAMS
Oh, how long it had been since the Dark Lord himself had participated in battles not instigated by himself. One could always trust that there would be other issues to which fanning the flames were possible, regardless with how much of a threat one specific being posed. There were always others, as it goes. Why, exactly, had the Dark Lord decided to participate in this absurd retaliation against the pro-werewolf right activists? Even he wasn't exactly sure. He had been informed of the rumors, and the plans to mount an attack against the protesters, by a servant of his-- many of his death eaters were to be in attendance as well. It had been many years since the old one had entered the fray, and it seemed he no longer was young enough to handle the action. However, here he was, mingling with the others and suppressing his presence to all who knew the pressure of his mind against the inside of their skulls. Tonight, he was a simple solider, and it was rather odd to lower himself to their standards. He could lie to himself and say he wished to see the ferocity of the public, and his death eaters, for himself before continuing with his plans, but this would be false and he was well aware. No, really, tonight was about the battle -- about the chaos. A duelist as skilled as he could only sit on the sidelines, hidden from authorities, for so long before the itch began in the dueling hand. The itch spread until it infected his mind, making him reckless. Reckless, though, was dangerous, and yet he found himself less than concerned. Tonight was about fun. Tonight was animosity.
With his cloak covering his face as just the right angle, Voldemort became obscure -- a being of vague identity. The wizards in attendance were so excited and wound up that it never occurred to them that not everyone was a known friend. It seemed overly reckless already, but that wasn't his problem. Taking a mask, Voldemort secured it and joined the mass in silence, perfectly aware of how silly this whole thing was. Werewolves, though. Who would imagine, in all the chaos he himself was causing, that werewolves would be a topic of public concern. Never he mind, though, for he was using this debate perfectly to lure werewolves to his army. Yes, no issue went wasted. Eventually, all was secure, and the mass of anti-werewolf right activists found their way into Diagon Alley, descending upon the protesters with wand and mask. Screams and shrieks filled the air as shops and bodies exploded and fell. They had been instructed by whoever the ring-leader of this circus was not to kill anyone, but it hardly mattered to Voldemort if both sides found causalities. It would only spur the debate, angering the public further -- all the easier to manipulate the situation to his personal gain. Circling the outskirts with an eerie calm, the masked Dark Lord found himself drifting to the left, firing lesser hexes and charms to throw himself into the mix. After a short while, he found himself enjoying the chaos. This was like exercise, and oh did it feel good!
Oh, but then, a lone figure approached the less-than-man, his wand drawn and face defiant. A small, wicked little grin spread across Voldemort's concealed face as he stilled and waved his arm entreatingly. All the better! Quickly, before the man had time to launch an offensive, the Dark Lord began to analyze his opponent, sending a weak hex to observe the man's reaction. When his hex was dodged, Voldemort only stilled and waited for the counter, eager to feel the adrenaline he once thought was lost on him fill his veins. To his disappointment, though, his opponent was not near his level of skill. Really, though, better was not to be expected from the general public. The man spot off a spell in return, but Voldemort easily shielded himself, sending the spell off into the crowd. More excitement lay in whether or not it hit someone else rather than in this duel. A pity and a waste of his night. Another spell is cast just as Voldemort himself sent another hex. Due to his lack of seriousness, his spell was overpowered and his opponent's spell hit him squarely in the chest. Growling angrily, Voldemort stepped forward and fired stupify at the man, hitting him and causing a scene. No sooner had he won the duel than a hoard of aurors began to descend upon him. Dueling them all would not be an issue were he not looking to attract more attention. He had had his duel and his night, and now it was time to disappear. With a pop!, the Dark Lord disappeared, returning to Malfoy's Manor for the time being. Exhaling, the man lowered himself slowly to a nearby arm-chair in Lucius' study. It appeared the host himself was absent -- possibly at the raid himself. No matter, for he had had enough company for the night. Really, no challenge at all. A pitiful night out.
With his cloak covering his face as just the right angle, Voldemort became obscure -- a being of vague identity. The wizards in attendance were so excited and wound up that it never occurred to them that not everyone was a known friend. It seemed overly reckless already, but that wasn't his problem. Taking a mask, Voldemort secured it and joined the mass in silence, perfectly aware of how silly this whole thing was. Werewolves, though. Who would imagine, in all the chaos he himself was causing, that werewolves would be a topic of public concern. Never he mind, though, for he was using this debate perfectly to lure werewolves to his army. Yes, no issue went wasted. Eventually, all was secure, and the mass of anti-werewolf right activists found their way into Diagon Alley, descending upon the protesters with wand and mask. Screams and shrieks filled the air as shops and bodies exploded and fell. They had been instructed by whoever the ring-leader of this circus was not to kill anyone, but it hardly mattered to Voldemort if both sides found causalities. It would only spur the debate, angering the public further -- all the easier to manipulate the situation to his personal gain. Circling the outskirts with an eerie calm, the masked Dark Lord found himself drifting to the left, firing lesser hexes and charms to throw himself into the mix. After a short while, he found himself enjoying the chaos. This was like exercise, and oh did it feel good!
Oh, but then, a lone figure approached the less-than-man, his wand drawn and face defiant. A small, wicked little grin spread across Voldemort's concealed face as he stilled and waved his arm entreatingly. All the better! Quickly, before the man had time to launch an offensive, the Dark Lord began to analyze his opponent, sending a weak hex to observe the man's reaction. When his hex was dodged, Voldemort only stilled and waited for the counter, eager to feel the adrenaline he once thought was lost on him fill his veins. To his disappointment, though, his opponent was not near his level of skill. Really, though, better was not to be expected from the general public. The man spot off a spell in return, but Voldemort easily shielded himself, sending the spell off into the crowd. More excitement lay in whether or not it hit someone else rather than in this duel. A pity and a waste of his night. Another spell is cast just as Voldemort himself sent another hex. Due to his lack of seriousness, his spell was overpowered and his opponent's spell hit him squarely in the chest. Growling angrily, Voldemort stepped forward and fired stupify at the man, hitting him and causing a scene. No sooner had he won the duel than a hoard of aurors began to descend upon him. Dueling them all would not be an issue were he not looking to attract more attention. He had had his duel and his night, and now it was time to disappear. With a pop!, the Dark Lord disappeared, returning to Malfoy's Manor for the time being. Exhaling, the man lowered himself slowly to a nearby arm-chair in Lucius' study. It appeared the host himself was absent -- possibly at the raid himself. No matter, for he had had enough company for the night. Really, no challenge at all. A pitiful night out.
closed!
Created by FIZZLE of BTN