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Snippet #2644026

located in Wizarding World, a part of Nox // Lumos, one of the many universes on RPG.

Wizarding World

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Augustus Bane Character Portrait: Eleanor Saint-Yues
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LOCATION :: Diagon Alley
STATUS :: Armed & Dangerous // Covered in Feathers
[ Knights of Cydonia || Muse ]
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----A gust of wind and the rustling of branches marks its arrival, and with it comes the tell-tale flashcrackbang of multiple apparations going on at once.

----The bird half-hidden by browning leaves cocks its head, its unusually vibrant silver-blue eyes coming to rest on the snow-smattered street below. The atmosphere surrounding Diagon Alley is filled with indistinct chatter as shoppers flit about, their footsteps dotting the ground as they walk past, some toting their purchases, others not.

----They all seem pleased; content.

----Almost as if there wasn’t a war raging within their borders.

----Almost as if they weren’t about to be slaughtered in the coming minutes by a faceless plague festering in the shadows.

----Almost as if they knew.

----The bird ruffles its feathers, and one of the shoppers look up.

----"That you, Gust?"

----A squawk.

----"Keepin’ watch, eh? Aurors're here, I s'pose?"

----A nod, and a pointed look towards a lamplight, where a woman with hair of spun gold and a distinctly authoritative air stands in wait.

----"All righty. Give us a caw when those bastards get here, yeah? Fuckers won’t know what hit β€˜em, they won’t."

----The manβ€”who he belatedly identifies as a metal-charmer called Whitakerβ€”walks off with a light-hearted chuckle, a half-eaten pasty in hand and package labelled 'Potage's Cauldron Shop' slung over one shoulder.

----If birds could huff, Augustus would’ve done so with great fervour. 'Give us a caw'. The fuck was he, then? A bloody siren? And so he settles for a nice little eye-roll and pours as much passive-aggressiveness into it as he can.

----Below him are shoppersβ€”but a closer look at some of these so-called shoppers would reveal them not to be shoppers at all, but a fine mixture of Resistance members, Supporters, and Aurors intermingled with those looking for a bit of late-night shopping.

----The reason for this, is this: four days ago a little birdy (though she wasn’t really much of a birdyβ€”more like a fox, to be honest) came a-calling, and let slip a very, shall we say, significant bit of informationβ€”that the Unmentionables were on the move once more, and that their target would be Diagon Alley.

----So now here they were, the Resistance in all their strength, come to greet their faceless friends with their heads high and their wands held aloft.

----Whitaker was right, the fuckers definitely wouldn’t know what hit them.

----Augustus let out a short squawk as the thought crossed his mind, pausing to shake his head at the involuntary action, before resuming his sweep of the streets. Everything seemed normal, and nothing was amiss save for the large number of people with their wands sticking out of their pockets. He thought idly if Eleanor would mind if he abandoned his post for a bit to grab a pastyβ€”but then there came a crack, and another and another, and soon fat tendrils of black smoke began clouding the air around him, and there were people screaming and bright flashes of spells being cast and blocked and repelled, and before he knew it he was airborne.

----A blur of grey-speckled white comes swooping behind a neighbouring tree trunk, and on the other side appears a man: blond and stocky, clad in jeans and black leather with a wand clutched tight between his fingers and a spell burning at the tip of his tongue, ready to be fired. Around him are Unmentionables glamoured to look like Dementors; faceless, unknown, yet all the easier to fight against knowing that he wouldn’t have to see their faces when he delivers the killing blow.

----Two of the previous fortnight’s five kills were his own, and he isn’t about to let that streak end.

----He runs headfirst into the fray, and yells 'avis metalli!'. At once, birds of metal come flying in blue-tinged bursts out of the tip of his wand, soaring skywards at lightning speeds. They hang suspended in the air, their noses pointed downwards at the growing skirmish below. A growl of 'oppugno', sends them swooping down, their sharp beaks charmed to aim squarely for the enemy.

----The birds provide enough of a distraction for him to weave seamlessly into the fight, easily intercepting a hex aimed for a lady in blue and hurling it back towards its caster with zeal.

----And just like that, Diagon Alley becomes a warzone.