Reflections on Battle

[Regulus Grey]

His jaws snap down, long ivory canines that should have clamped down on the pale flesh of the Malkavian's hip bite nothing but air. DAMN HIM! The Elder dances away, and he feels useless. The Venturue, even the Tremere are showing him up. Damn them....

Regulus blinks, he sits in the crowd amidst the low hum of the audience as the performance goes on. He barely remembers entering and taking his seat. The music washes over him as he is once more drawn back into one of his recent memories.

A loud snarl erupts from his mouth, black lips peel away from fangs. He leaps forward but the fist of Christe connects with his chest and he is knocked off course, his own momentum carries him crashing into the edge of the bed. A brief snarl at the ghoul who whimpers before turning and launching himself back towards the swirling melee...

Focus. You will do better when fighting against the Sabbat, they don't have as much experience fighting wolves. The performance ends, the human's file out. He sits for several long moments, he will leave when the last of the mortal's are gone.