[u][i]Zakhar-Near the Great Room[/i][/u] Zakhar watched with silent and persevering indignation as the Reddick brothers fought and died inside of the great hall. The rain had been an ingenious countermeasure to the Wraithcloth that had cloaked the wolves, and the combined might of Bain and Hoyle’s personal band of misfits was more formidable than Zakhar had imagined. Still, even as one brother stood in death throes with his body riven by bullets, and his heart clutched in the fist of a vampire; and the other lay bleeding out onto the herringbone floor, cut, pierced, and shot in countless places, Zakhar still played with the upper hand. In the initial chaos, the white-wolf had steered well clear of the Hoyle siblings, and had maneuvered into a position near the entrance of the keep. As Zakhar knew they would, once the fur starting flying and the intention of the attack became clear, Bain and Hoyle would herd their precious Aislinn with the tooth of Fenris in tow, towards the shade gates. That was where he had taken up station, well clear of the storm within the great room, and just before the exit to the promised escape path. The bumbling fools were dragging his quarry right to him. Zakhar hefted his sword, feeling the balance for the thousandth time. He whispered a silent prayer to Mother Moon for the safe return of the Reddick brothers’ souls to their final destination. The two had served their purpose, and they had died a warrior’s death. Now all Zakhar had to do was assure their sacrifice, and all those that were giving their lives outside the castle walls even now, were not in vain. --- [u][i]Archibald Bain-The Keep[/i][/u] Bain allowed Victoria to take the gravely wounded Aislinn from him. Through the haze of the pouring rain, he could see the empathetic pain and worry in the crimson-haired werewolf’s eyes as she hefted the sister Hoyle upon her shoulders. [i]So much has gone awry. So many of our family are dying for a cause none of us yet comprehend.[/i] Bain reflected as he nodded his compliance with Victoria’s request to guide them to safety. “This way,” Bain shouted above the din. He struck out towards the vast hallway that marked the entrance to the great hall, and ultimately the keep. Just beyond a set of those doors lay their salvation, and Bain moved with a speed borne of necessity, not once looking back to see if Victoria and the others were following. He trusted them enough to know they would trail him. As he passed beneath the stone archway, leaving the great room, he stopped to survey the space before him. It was dry, shielded from the rain in the great room, and lit warmly with many wall sconces that held flickering candles. Three sets of massive wooden doors branched off from the entryway, the first and centermost led to the main exit, and the elevators to the main floor of the castle. To the left was the doorway to Reginald Hoyle’s personal art gallery; and to the right was the exit to the room of the shades, and their ultimate salvation. His keen senses perceived nothing out of the ordinary. Though he was very much aware that the absence of a disturbance had not assured safety, even just moments ago, the ancient vampire had nothing else to call upon at the moment to confirm his affirm his own observations. Time was of the essence, and Aislinn, along with the tooth, must be delivered to safety. Bain turned back and waved to the group behind him. He pointed towards the doorway to the right. “Through there, the shades are through there. Quickly now!” --- [u][i]Atticus-The Keep[/i][/u] Atticus watched as Semyon’s hail of gunfire pierced the flesh of the invisible form he had pointed to. Clouds of misty blood could be seen staining the rain, just before Siya slammed into the perforated werewolf, and added her own brand of unique pain to the creature’s violent demise. With a tip of his wings, Atticus spun about in the air just in time to see a wolf, still half hidden beneath his magical wards, be impaled upon Gabriel’s angelic blade. From his vantage point, Atticus could see that the werewolf had suffered numerous cuts, stabs, and gunshot wounds, and he knew several of his friends had had a hand in dispatching the assassin. Blood pooled in a crimson puddle around the fallen body, the still torrential rain spattering the gore about the great room. He heard Bain call out from beyond the entrance to the great hall, and Atticus knew despite their recent triumphs, they were still far from being out of harm’s way. Aislinn and her brother still needed to make it to the shade gates, not to mention the rest of the apparent assault needed to be rebuffed. Atticus didn’t know where Jay-Jay and Daisy were, but he prayed that wherever it was that they were giving the fucking werewolves all the hell they could muster. Atticus let the air from beneath his wings, and swooped down to land beside Semyon, Nestor, and the broken figure of Reginald Hoyle. The incubus took a firm grip around Reginald’s shoulders, and hefted with all his might. Even in his demonic form, the werewolf was heavy and cumbersome, but he forced all his energy into the drag, and he made headway towards where Archibald Bain was standing. “Semyon, Nestor, Max, Henry, fuck…anybody, can you see to his wounds?” Atticus indicated Reginald Hoyle, his teeth grinding with strain. “Siya, if you could end that worthless fucker’s life, and come help me, I could use it.”