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Jan. 20th, 2013 01:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
frostheartedroseWho: Trevor Belmont and Bridget Frostheart
What: Vampire hunter meets 'dhampire' squad.
Where: Wallachia
When: 1480
Warnings: Potential violence, language, religious matters, and species-ism.
Bridget had been the first of the group to pick up on their follower. It hadn't been the first time for their small group to encounter a 'vampire hunter' though so it had taken several hours before any of the others to notice anything unusual. Which was also the reason Bridget didn't tend to travel with anyone under 200 years unless they were relocating a group. True, she had been a prodigy much like the one who'd raised her, so she was well aware for over an hour before one of the others started casting odd glances behind them. The rider was still miles away but Bridget was always cautious.
They were going slow, perhaps the speed of a gallop on a horse with the group spread out just under the treetops to look for signs that their quarry had gone to ground somewhere along the road. They might have normally moved a great deal faster if they weren't all still marked from the last tussle. There wasn't a single one of the five that wasn't still missing a limb or hastily-splinted broken bones, even Bridget's cape was covering the remains her arm and shoulder and the scorched spots on her black dress and tunic. She lifted her remaining arm and signaled the others to continue on while she dropped down towards what looked like a stopover clearing for various travelers. Normally one of the others would have stayed behind to send a follower off in the wrong direction or cut off any continued interest but Bridget knew the others weren't in any shape to play catch-up later.
Not that she was either, but she was determined to hide it. She'd taken a hard blow to the chest which had left her with several cracked ribs and a good amount of internal bleeding that she was just starting to regenerate away. The General just hoped that the rider was a messenger. But the pessimist she'd become knew he wouldn't be. Not in the foothills of the Carpathians, and not when another area of the forest was still smoldering and pitted with the leavings of their fight earlier that evening. A little hard to cover up several miles of craters, ripped up trees, and burned vegetation. And forget the sword or claw marks all over. Bridget was just glad they'd crossed swords with Akabara Strauss away from the various villages this time. They weren't always so lucky.
Bridget stacked a few sticks and logs into the ash-dusted pit and lit them with a thought. She might as well settle in for a little bit and wait. It didn't seem that the brave soul risking the dark forest to follow them would take long to arrive even if being cautious and skilled about it. The illusion-disguised woman would be sitting on a log with her two swords and bow propped up beside her while combing the tangles from her hair.
What: Vampire hunter meets 'dhampire' squad.
Where: Wallachia
When: 1480
Warnings: Potential violence, language, religious matters, and species-ism.
Bridget had been the first of the group to pick up on their follower. It hadn't been the first time for their small group to encounter a 'vampire hunter' though so it had taken several hours before any of the others to notice anything unusual. Which was also the reason Bridget didn't tend to travel with anyone under 200 years unless they were relocating a group. True, she had been a prodigy much like the one who'd raised her, so she was well aware for over an hour before one of the others started casting odd glances behind them. The rider was still miles away but Bridget was always cautious.
They were going slow, perhaps the speed of a gallop on a horse with the group spread out just under the treetops to look for signs that their quarry had gone to ground somewhere along the road. They might have normally moved a great deal faster if they weren't all still marked from the last tussle. There wasn't a single one of the five that wasn't still missing a limb or hastily-splinted broken bones, even Bridget's cape was covering the remains her arm and shoulder and the scorched spots on her black dress and tunic. She lifted her remaining arm and signaled the others to continue on while she dropped down towards what looked like a stopover clearing for various travelers. Normally one of the others would have stayed behind to send a follower off in the wrong direction or cut off any continued interest but Bridget knew the others weren't in any shape to play catch-up later.
Not that she was either, but she was determined to hide it. She'd taken a hard blow to the chest which had left her with several cracked ribs and a good amount of internal bleeding that she was just starting to regenerate away. The General just hoped that the rider was a messenger. But the pessimist she'd become knew he wouldn't be. Not in the foothills of the Carpathians, and not when another area of the forest was still smoldering and pitted with the leavings of their fight earlier that evening. A little hard to cover up several miles of craters, ripped up trees, and burned vegetation. And forget the sword or claw marks all over. Bridget was just glad they'd crossed swords with Akabara Strauss away from the various villages this time. They weren't always so lucky.
Bridget stacked a few sticks and logs into the ash-dusted pit and lit them with a thought. She might as well settle in for a little bit and wait. It didn't seem that the brave soul risking the dark forest to follow them would take long to arrive even if being cautious and skilled about it. The illusion-disguised woman would be sitting on a log with her two swords and bow propped up beside her while combing the tangles from her hair.
