[center][h2][color=#008b8b]Fionn MacKerracher[/color][/h2][/center]
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If Tyaethe actually thought that being two hundred years older would make much of a difference, she was bound to be disappointed. Especially when Fionn was, at least in weight if not height, thrice her size. [color=#008b8b]"Suit yourself,"[/color] he replied with a shrug, moments before Fanilly actually announced their victory. [color=#008b8b]"I'm still not going to let you get into any [i]more[/i] trouble for now, at least."[/color]

Whether she would ponder just what he meant by that or choose to try and argue didn't matter, as, with her well-wrapped in his cloak, he quickly snatched her up and onto his shoulder like a sack of grain.

Vampiric super-strength couldn't do too much if she didn't have the ground to rely on, especially knowing she wouldn't really [i]want[/i] to hurt him.

He scooped up her greatsword with the other hand, his borrowed blade from the Moonlit Queen's servant hanging loosely in the suspension for the dagger strapped to his belt. Not something to go running with, but fine enough for a walk. That [i]did,[/i] however, fail to leave him with any hands free when he heard Renar calling out at him. Diminutive vampire in tow, he walked over to look at the Trapper's deserted armour, frowning.

[color=#008b8b]"You have a sack, lad? Maybe tie that cloak into one, hook it onto my elbow with some of the larger bits inside. Shouldn't be too hard."[/color]