[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/vDOqGRW.png[/img][/center] Fenris shook his flesh, much like a dog shaking itself free of moisture. His eyes churned with the rainbow inkiness of crude oil, and his massive jaws clacked together with a resounding crash of bone. The vermin that defied him were proving more irksome than he had thought possible, as not one of them had yet to have the good sense to perish. Things had perhaps changed more in the thousands of years of his captivity than the god-wolf had fathomed. Those creatures who naturally tapped into the rivers of the beyond were more potent apparently; stronger and less fragile than their forebears. Or so the god-wolf surmised. This notion angered Fenris. He was going about his dawn of destruction too personally, too single-mindedly. His body, his power, his divinity was like an axe, and here he was striking at these insignificant creatures as if he were a penknife. The whole of the world was to suffer his wrath, and these vermin were no exception. With his mind resolved, Fenris lifted his mighty head to the clouds. His mouth was opened, and the long rows of his fangs curled towards one another like baleful tree-branches silhouetted against the dark sky. Between these teeth a bright red ball of energy began to take shape. At first it was nothing more than a glimmer to those upon the ground. Then, slowly, it began to grow in size and intensity. Tendrils of crimson lightning coursed from between the monster’s teeth, and bolts flashed out from the clouds to add to the growing ball. The flashes came faster and faster as time passed, and the crackling ball of energy expanded with every bright strike of the ethereal lightning. [center][img]http://i.imgur.com/vDOqGRW.png[/img][/center] What met the vampire that had punctured the flesh of the god-wolf was nothing short of a typhoon of power. Like a tank of compressed air pierced by a needle, it rushed outward from the god’s body, enveloping her with a force of eons and the sting of eternity. Fenris’ essence teetered on the brink of overwhelming the vampire, tearing at her soul until the very link with her physical body was almost severed. If not for the ancient blood* that had already steeled her veins, it most certainly would have. Through the agony that she would come to endure as a result of the intoxicating blood of the god-wolf, the vampiress had managed a feat only the other Æsir gods had ever achieved… Fenris’ mighty armor had its first chink; a single hairline crack in the bulwark that was the mighty god of destruction. All that was left now was to exploit it... *-[i]In the first episode of Pieces of 8, Siya discovered that she was the descendant of a powerful vampire named Lord Morpier. To make a long story short, she was used to ingest and protect one of the pillars of vampire blood-power before it could fall into hands of Decima, the antagonist of the first episode. This was known as a Piece of 8, and it is where the RP got its name. This is the 'ancient blood,' and the subsequent strength inherent with it, that I refer to.[/i]