Regine Von Carstein


The forests of the fjord pillared around the wolfen-shaped vampire as she sped down the ravine, her paws soft against the soft forest floor and the stars above blocked shielded by the wooden canopy. The crisp night air pressed against her lupine face as the vampire drank and inhaled in the sweet, cool breeze that was no longer stricken with the endless scent of decay that had so choked her in the mines. Focusing on her descent down the valley, her nose remaining alert to guide her direction towards the Norscan camp, the former thief wondered to herself exactly how she would approach this, how she would accomplish the removal of -

Ten Norscan Marauders.

The lupine vampire had descended far enough that her hulking, pony-sized form was able to hide among the shrubbery of the forest floor while peering across the hidden camp before her. One tent. Two. Three. Four. Five. And a sixth, larger than the others, with a seventh one adjacent and close-by with only the signs of internal storage serving as its purpose. The centre of the camp held a fire-pit above which were arrayed numerous skewers with flanks of meat shoved across their lengths, while closer to the tree's behind the clearing and away from any passing, casual observer, Regine spotted the squat, long forms of the ship the Norscans had used to travel this deep into Bretonnian soil, its sails doubtlessly folded away to further conceal it from stray eyes.

Remaining hidden in the shrubbery, crouched low and peering, Regine counted the outlanders, her eyes narrowed at the sight of them. These weren't like the Norscans she'd encountered in the mine, no no, these men were bigger, more savage and violent in appearance, their shoulders seemingly carved from stone, their forms towering and imposing and born from a harsh wasteland that produced nothing but harsh men. Though shy of armor, what they had was practically arranged to protect against melee weapons in a duel, while the shields scattered about the camp would afford them cover from missile fire.

The thiefs mind worked like a set of gears and cogs, mentally deducing the best way to approach almost a dozen men visibly capable of extraordinary violence. The beastmen had been savage animals, uncoordinated in their attacks and clumsy, but they had wounded her all the same. The minotaur had been a monster with more wits and cunning that one would grant him upon visual inspection, yet he had almost taken her head off. It did not count to be over-confident, or underestimating.

Narrowing her eyes, Regine remained low and slunk through the shrubbery and foliage of the forest and around the perimeter of the camp. Mustering her skills to remain quiet and unseen, the vampire-in-wolfs form moved, paused, moved, paused, moved paused, in a tediously necessary masking of her locomotion, before eventually making her way to the other side of the camp, past the hidden longship and behind the storage tent. Her eyes pried and alert, the vampire returned to her humanoid form, Regine's mortal image taking shape once again from her prior lupine form, and crouched low to approach the tent, draw its rear sheets up and slide herself inside. Alas, there was no treasure. No mountains of gold or captives upon which to feed or gather information. Instead, there was simply weapons, food and provisions one might expect for a raiding party so far from home. But of the implements of death that were available, one type in particular caught the vampires attention: the javelins. There were many, many javelins.

Reaching out and picking up one of the almost short-spear like weapons, feeling its weight and inspecting its sharpened steel tip, Regine perked an eyebrow and spun it around easily between her long, dextrous fingers. Suddenly, Regine smiled. She considered the woods outside, then the Norscans chattering in the camp with their guttural, harsh tongue.

The vampire wrapped her hand around half a dozen of the thin, aerially-designed spears and left the tent to depart back into the woods.

Gathering her newly acquired javelins, the vampire moved amidst the tree's and deposited the weapons in groups of two strategically behind the trunks.

Then, she moved closed to the camp, away from her temporarily cache'ed weapons, drew her bow and peered back at the Norscan camp. Bringing her ranged weapon about before her and up to aim down the length of an arrow, the vampire pulled the drawstring back, aimed and waited...