t e r r o r (death eaters)

[gaspevil]

Isabelle situated herself on the sturdiest branch as high up on the tallest tree as she could find, feeling excitement as if she were about to watch a fireworks display. Using the Quidditch referee that Darren had found for her, she was going to cause a large explosion a minute or two into the game, casualties would rank in the hundreds, and as the survivors fled... Isabelle and her men would be waiting for them in the woods. She had finally decided to go large-scale with her efforts of terror and mayhem, a smirk came to her thin lips. The wood encircled the stadium, but she was far enough away where the explosion would not effect her, Isabelle cocked her head to the side, watching as the stands filled, smelling their beating hearts on the air.

They were happy, excited... Little did they know, at least half of them would be dead within ten minutes. Isabelle literally counted down the time until her magically rigged explosives would combust. "Three... two... one." Isabelle whispered. No sooner than the word "one" had passed her lips, a good portion of the stadium was blown to pieces, the happiness turned to screams, what remained of the stands were alight with fire. Now was not the time to celebrate, so Isabelle jumped from her branch and landed lightly on her feet, like a cat. In just a few moments, those not killed in the inferno would be in their grasp...

[forgetmenot]

Darren crouched low, casually looking up at Isabelle. This was exciting, the dangerous adrenaline ran through his veins rapidly. God, how he had come to love that feeling in such a short time. In two months, he had become Isabelle's personal prize, what with finding the Quidditch referee for her. As Isabelle's hand flicked forward and the explosions and screams ran out, Darren straightened up. He looked over at Isabelle one last time, before turning his attention towards the crowd of survivors.

[gaspevil]

Isabelle grinned wickedly, the first time in a long while that anything more than a smirk had come to her lips. She was excited for all the distress she would cause... Then after this they would lie low for a while, let everyone sit around in their fear before she would strike again. Isabelle snagged a young woman that had been sprinting toward them, and sunk her fangs into her jugular vein, drinking deeply, and then throwing the corpse aside. Isabelle fought, it was too easy, no one was prepared...

[forgetmenot]

Darren popped from the bushes, frightening a delicate young couple holding hands as they emerged into the open. The man, already bruised and battered, pushed the young woman behind him. With a flick of his wand, Darren had killed the man and bound the woman. Isabelle had promised him a prize, for all his hard work. She would do nicely. He concealed her, then turned, wand drawn. In the other hand, he held a gleaming silver knife. Some human, hand-to-hand combat would be lovely, should any of the wizards and witches lost their wands in the explosions.

[gaspevil]

[blockquoote]

Isabelle signaled to some of her men to go to the opposite end of the wood, should any runners get past their guard. The funny thing was, not many thought to apparate away, they were running about like chickens in a barnyard being chased by coyotes. Isabelle found that not many of them were fighting back, either. Too much chaos, too much panic. Isabelle was relishing every minute of it, it was what she lived for.

[/blockquote]

[forgetmenot]

Darren twirled his wand around his fingers, caging another young, energetic couple with magic. They could be useful, considering they were wearing Ministry robes. Suddenly, something smashed against his shoulder. Growling, he whipped around. Someone, amidst the commotion, had thrown a rock at him. "Big mistake," Darren growled, lunging, knife poised. There was a certain spot where you could plunge the knife into a human's back, puncturing the heart and slashing the spine all in one blow. Darren scrambled his way to the back of the man, and delivered the blow, grinning maniacally under his mask.

[gaspevil]

Isabelle lost track of the time, but somewhere after two hours the crowd started having some sense, fighting back, some of them disapparating. Isabelle threw down the corpse she had drained of blood, looking around, inhaling deeply. Everyone had either vanished or lay dead. Except... There were a few still alive, but they weren't running. Puzzled, Isabelle followed their terrified scents, finding a few people tied up, some others caged. She smiled, one of her men must have thought of her. Then she caught his scent. "You have done well, Richter," Isabelle said, knowing he was nearby.

[forgetmenot]

Darren turned, knife poised, wand snapped somewhere in the pile of bodies. One man had been smart, but he had been smarter. At seeing Isabelle, he dropped his defensive stance. His mask was cracked in places, and his cheek was cut. He could feel the sweat of the adrenaline now, and he grinned, bowing. "Thank you M'am," he replied with a smirk. "Ministry officials," Darren said, jerking his thumb to a cage of about four people. Nodding to another cage, he said, "And possible snacks, my Lady."

[gaspevil]

Isabelle did not respond, she was too busy using her skill to scan the minds of those Darren had caught for her. Trying to find a shred of something useful. Specific information was difficult to find, she would torture it out of them later. She faced her follower, he had managed to make a mess of himself. Wordlessly, Isabelle used her experience in healing to close up the wound on his face, he could do the mask on his own, she had found that he wasn't a complete idiot. Pulling a wallet from the depths of her cloak, Isabelle opened it, effortlessly fitting the cages inside. As she zipped it closed, their pleas for help became very muffled, nonexistent when she tucked the wallet into her. "Where is your wand?" Isabelle asked of Darren, noting him unarmed.

[forgetmenot]

Darren looked around wordlessly, finally locating his wand. It had been snapped, held together by only strands of the core. "Bastard was smart," he replied, gesturing to the body of the man who had gotten to his wand. Darren examined the wand, then pocketed it. "I'm sure I can find someone to fix it," he replied, glancing at Isabelle. "Or I can purchase a new one." Hopefully, the possible solutions suited Isabelle's liking.

[gaspevil]

"Don't be foolish, it is beyond repair. Only the Elder Wand would fix it, but as it was snapped many years ago it is of no aid to us." Isabelle said coldly, flicking her wand once more, bringing about eight different wands to her outstretched hand. She held them aloft toward Darren. "Use the one that suits you best of these, no need to raise suspicion, as students very well do not randomly break their wands," said Isabelle lazily.

[evildoers]

Ryan hated the new kid. He was completely shining in that perfect prince way that the moron had equipped to go with those charming looks. The kid made him sick. Ryan watched the little display, aware that Isabelle probably knew that he was there, and that he was pissed. Still, he couldn't help but laugh a bit at the boy's foolishness. He chuckled a bit, then stepped from the trees. Ryan approached Isabelle, bowing slightly, not glancing at Darren. He had gotten past without so much as a scratch, to him, or his wand.

[gaspevil]

"Oh, there you are, O'Donall," said Isabelle, although she had not been curious as to where he had gotten off to. He also was one of her smarter recruits. A quick smell told him he wasn't injured, at least not bleeding, though the familiar scent of adrenaline still hung thick on the air about him. "I see you haven't had any difficulties, well done, well done." Isabelle said, then took a moment to inhale deeply, listen closely. "A handful have escaped at the northern end of the wood, I daresay Carlyle has been slacking again."

[evildoers]

Ryan bowed his head in respect. At the comment about Carlyle, he snorted. "Doesn't surprise me," he replied. A sudden urge burst through him, and he snapped his fingers once, a flickering flame appeared. He uttered a soft sigh. He had been careful not to use fire to kill too many, for fear of going out of control and burning down the forest. However, now he was in the clear, for now. Pyromania, though a curse, was also a gift.

[gaspevil]

"We'll let them leave," said Isabelle, casually leaning against a tree. Her tone suggested that she was doing the escapees a great favour by sparing their lives. But she had decided that there should be at least a few survivors; she loved the people that were made bitter by their losses, swore to get revenge on her. Isabelle liked the fun in it, as a cat enjoys chasing a mouse before finally killing it. "Though I may have to have a little... Chat... With Carlyle about his dreadful incompetence." Isabelle added, examining her fingernails absently.