Roanne the Sentinel
March 19th, 2012 at 12:30am

The great cat stalked through one of the most beautiful parts of that
land looking tattered and beaten, with fresh scars adorning his jet
black hide and showing the shimmering silver and red beneath. Shadow
oozed from each step he took and emanated from the drops of blood that
fell to the earth. His wounds from the sundering did not heal; either
he did not let them or the curse kept them festering and foul. They
stung as he took each step and burned as his bones pressed against
skin and teased the bruises that had formed through several layers of
thick skin. The shadows had done everything but take his life; most
days he wished they'd done that too.

For he'd lost his home and he'd lost all that he had loved. He'd lost
his solidarity and purpose, and without all this he felt lost and
feared the balance of his soul. It was a funny set of circumstances
that kept him in possession of the thing at all, he would never have
been shocked to lose it. And now? Well, he wasn't sure he would have
been disappointed, either. He wasn't sure he'd even notice.

He let the shadow of his magic dance around him in a tight swarm as
his body fell to the ground and begged for rest while his mind yearned
for more. But he was done- Roanne the Sentinel was no more; he had no
herd to lead to glory, no Evangeline at his side, no Cassandra at his
feet, no warriors at his back. He was the shifter on his own, a mere
shadow of what he had once been. The sentinel with nothing left to
protect, the father with nothing left to care for, the lover with
nothing left to love.

And suddenly he felt that pang of abandonment fresh and sorrowful as
he recalled Giselle's betrayal and her loyalty to the sect. He felt
betrayal from all sides, from everyone in his herd; why had they all
run to hide from the shadows, or died in their wake? Why had so few
stayed to fight and lived as he had? Why had so few kept their bravery
and stayed strong as he had taught them? Anger burned fiery within
him, dark shadow swirled around his feline form as he lay upon the
meadow grounds smelling of old blood and a rotting corpse, but life
stirred within him. He was not gone yet- there was something left in
this life, he was sure of it. He just wasn't sure what.

---

Mandrake
April 7th, 2012 at 5:33am

It was the scent of blood that drew Mandrake closer. It drifted on the
wind, the aroma of it delicious and alluring. Her mouth watered as the
scent grew stronger. Her feline form longed for the taste of it on her
tongue, the feel of it thick and heavy on her fur. She ached for the
thrill of the hunt, the glory of the kill, but there would be no
thrill. No glory. The bleeding animal already smelled like it was
close to death.

She moved quietly through the underbrush before finally emerging in
the meadow. Her elegant head lifted and she scented the air. He was
close, the bleeding thing. Dinner. As she stalked through the grass
she found the trail of blood he'd left behind and she followed it.
Mild surprise gripped her when she finally found the downed animal and
recognized it as none other than the panther form of her once great
leader.

"Roanne the Sentinel." The cat purred almost gleefully. Seeing him so
close to death excited her. "I see you've not fared too well in the
escape from Isilme." Mandrake circled around the panther, her cold
eyes travelling over his body and lingering on various wounds. "Have
you made it this far only to die?"