Open Chronicles Hellsfeld

[Heike Eisen]

It worked out as intended. Szesh occupying her weapon, and Heike going low and getting a firm hold on her legs. Lifting the girl and driving her toward the edge.

This, but not without injury. While the claymore had been dropped, the girl produced a knife and stabbed into Heike's back and side. Dulled pain. Oozing blood. Wounds that would not heal until she slept again. The stab in the back could prove to be a problem as the fight continued, rough physicality tearing the muscle further, maybe even to the point where it permanently hinders her ability to move.

Deal with it if it comes.

The girl's stabbings disturbed Heike's trajectory, and she ended up failing to send the girl over the edge just yet. A noted crack, weighty and sickening, as the girl's back was rammed into hard stone instead. Heike felt the girl's blood running through her claws and over the backs of her hands and down into her palms and dripping off.

Don’t..bite me..P-please..

It was no yield. No surrender. Never assume that words spoken in fear during battle constituted a yield; only a direct and clear statement of surrender would do. And even then, there were many who would seek to take advantage of a knight's honor to perhaps create an opening, an opportunity. Herr Elias Schulze spoke of this to Heike with the gravitas of a man who had seen many battles and the conclusions of many lives.

She knew what he would do here.

Heike looked up at the girl, and said, "Wasn't planning to."

And Heike exerted herself for a burst of strength and tossed the girl up and over the edge of the Tower's top floor balcony.

She looked back toward Szesh. Saw for a brief moment that he was engaged with someone else, a man armed with a warhammer, and that others were coming.

Szesh blocked sight of her with a wide opening of his wings.

Good.

Ferelith Scathach

 

[Trajan Meng]

He couldn't save the blonde-haired mercenary from the machinations of the xeno and the woman. Damn them! But Trajan knew in his core that he carried at least partial responsibility, for had he not heard some manner of commotion and failed to act sooner? He had squandered those precious seconds, thinking the noise to be nothing, and the young mercenary paid the price for his lack of vigilance.

So be it. On this grim night, let the weight of Mankind fall upon and crush her murderers, this Draconian scum and his accomplice.

Trajan swung down his hammer. Parried by the Draconian's spear. He caught the Draconian's foot in his brigandine but the force of it stole some of the air from his lungs, and this along with the wide swing of the spear created a few paces' worth of separation between them.

Trajan regained his breath as he heard Rennegast's hired mercenaries gathering on the balcony. The Draconian opened his wings, and his woman accomplice was gone from sight.

Trajan scowled and yelled, "Fiends! This is your end!"

From upon Szesh's shoulders, where Heike had leapt and stood mostly concealed as a dark figure against the backdrop of night, Heike lunged down toward Trajan like a bolt fired from a crossbow. Grabbed hold of his shoulders and sank her claws in as they both fell to the floor and she, on top, had him pinned.

Her right hand removed viciously from his shoulder. The claws of her index and middle finger snapped to Trajan's neck--

Which turned to iron. As did all of his flesh, after he touched the head of his warhammer and activated its Iron Skin enchantment.

Heike's claws raked usually across Trajan's metal neck, an extremely harsh and shrill screeching sound instead of the fatal slice of his major artery as she had intended.

Trajan headbutted Heike with his iron encased skull, severely disorienting her and forcing her to slide off to the side and off from on top of him.

Szesh

 

[Ferelith Scathach]

“Wasn’t planning to.”

Relief flashed across her face only to be replaced by panic in less than a moment as the vampire exerted her strength and picked the pint sized mercenary up and began to finish dumping her over the side.

“Wait, wait, wait! You can bite me! You can bite-!” She began before the vampire released her and she fell. Her eyes locking with her foes.

The last thing she saw before the night sky greeted her vision. The wind rushed past her as she plummeted.

“Sorry Kyla.” She whispered.

Memories flashing through her mind before the ground below brought a sudden end to the slide show of her past mistakes and misdeeds. Another dead cut throat. No one would care she was gone.

Her oaths unfulfilled her grave a celebratory site for everyone she wronged. She hoped no one would piss on it if she even did get an honest grave.

She felt the solid ground touch her head before darkness took her vision and her body landed in a crumpled heap of broken bones and destroyed organs. Her tattoo glowed brightly in the night trying desperately to bring her back to the land of the living before flickering and fading to nothing.

“Your a coward Gunhild.”
Her sister sat across from her at the fire of the forge. Her sister banging away on another blade. “Don’t call me that.” Ferelith bristled at the insult. her sister calling her by her given name adding to the barb.

“You of all people have seen the things I have faced fearlessly when men twice my size ran!” She spat back her anger clouding her judgement for a moment. She remembered this.. this was..

“A coward does not mean you fear a blade, man or creature. You fear the loss of bloodshed and the thrill of these “adventures.” With the wolves.” Kyla shot back.

Her hand tightening on the hammer she wielded but the blade that had had her total focus was forgotten as she glared at her sister coldly.

“Don’t bring them into this! It isn’t our fault you went soft! We were tortured! Cut open! Thrown away!” A tear glistened on her cheek before she blinked wiping it away roughly.

“I’m getting what we deserve. If people get hurt in the process That isn’t our problem.” She said through grit teeth.

“Yes! In case you have forgotten I was there! We have a chance to leave that faceless revenge to those too blinded by it to change. We have a very small chance to give back and protect those that were once us.” Kyla said setting down her hammer and wiping her brow. “We have a chance to be happy Gunhild.” She finished with a sigh. “I said don’t call me that!” Ferelith spat. Her anger seeming to be barely kept in check. Kyla stood and walked up to her sister towering over her before she knelt as she had when they were children.

“You think father would want this for you? To see his princess... Bringing blood money back here to our home we built from nothing expecting a celebration?” She said with a pleading gaze now a far cry from her initial chilly glare.
“Gunhild. Please leave th-“ Kyla said misinterpreting her sisters shaking for tears. That was when she punched her. Right in the face. Her tattoo pulsing with power she sent her sister through the back wall of the wooden forge.

“I said. Don’t. Call me that!” She spat. Her temper burning she snatched up her gold and turned on her heel. “If you can’t even handle a punch I don’t know what I’m even doing here. If you want to be soft and pathetic you can do it on your own!” She yelled walking away.

When she glanced back her sister stood in the door way of her forge with a bleeding nose. But she want glaring or even disappointed. She had tears running down her face.

Ferelith has seen her endure much worse than a punch..she had never seen her sister cry..

why now did..

That was when it hit her when it had been lost on her before. there laying broken in the mud it hit her.

Her sister hadn’t cried because of the punch. She had been crying for her.

And now she would never make it home. Never apologize.

Never see Izzy, or Freya....No.
In the darkness her tattoo flicked again.

Not like this.

Not when she finally had friends that cared about her. And a chance to do the right thing. She wouldn’t lose this chance! She couldn’t lose this chance! And again it flickered this time glowing brighter for longer. Finally it seemed to burst at full power. Her back arched as it lifted her in the air slightly.

Bones and blood being reformed and replicated. The pain was hell on earth. Her mind reforming as her body did she finally fell smoking in a less broken, less dead, but very sore and painful heap.

“That. Was the absolute. Worst.”

She said pulling herself up to her feet and taking two steps before falling back to all fours and vomiting a mixture of spit, blood, bile and arcane residue that almost looked like a blue sparkles.

Vomiting blood and sparkles.

That was kind of funny.

She chuckled to herself between heaves as the “healing sickness” ran it’s course.

 

[Szesh]

“Fiends.” How uncreative. Szesh had been called many names by many enemies. Freak. Lizard. Monster. Fiend seemed underwhelming at this point, although to Trajan’s credit the insult was not aimed at his appearance.

Szesh felt Heike leap upon his shoulders. He would have been alarmed at the sudden contact, perhaps fearing it was the mercenary who had overpowered her and who was not coming to break his neck from behind, but the cold hands and inhumanly smooth movements told him at once that it was his undead companion. She balanced on his shoulders, using him as a perch from which to swoop down on her foe. Szesh was certain that the man would be dead within moments. He saw her claws reach his through, but the sound that came from them was alien.

He hadn’t been wearing a throat-guard, nor a helmet of any kind, but the metallic thud of his head against Heike’s was unmistakable. His flesh had turned as black as the hammer, and Szesh cursed the foul magic that had undoubtedly been employed.

He wanted to help Heike against this new metal monster, but a flurry of movement to his right demanded his attention. Two swords clashed against his spear shaft as he blocked the mercenaries with a shower of sparks. He pushed them off, feeling the strain in his muscled arms and bellowed a lion’s roar at the encroaching fighters. He was itching for a proper fight.

A third figure rushed at him, swinging a flail and screaming wildly. Their face was covered by their helmet, which bore a large fin on top of it. Ridiculous. Szesh caught the weapon’s chain with his spear, tangling it immediately. He pulled it free from the assailant’s hands and sent them stumbling forwards only to fall face down in front of him. He stomped on the back of their neck, hearing more floorboards crack beneath his weight and watching scarlet blood spurt from the eyeholes of that stupid helmet.

He was not allowed to savor this victory, though, as an arrow embedded itself in his thigh. He screeched in pain, grabbing the shaft and snapping it off. It had not gone deep, his scales had slowed it down, but it pained him to use the leg.

Taking advantage his momentary distraction, the two swordsmen who had originally attacked him came back. Szesh threw his spear into the chest of one of them and grabbed the wrist of the second, throwing him aside into his allies. He limped forwards to retrieve his spear, tearing it out with a fountain of gore. He could not ready it in time to face the next soldier that swung at him, so he met them with a short burst of fire.

With their screams as background, he repositioned himself with his weapon. The mercenaries were eyeing him more carefully now. He had dispatched four of them within a minute, but there were many more waiting. How many could he kill before they eventually overwhelmed him?

 

[Heike Eisen]

Heike may have been made undead by her affliction, but she retained many of the weaknesses of her human body. And thus she was not immune to the discombobulating effect of a hard hit to the head, even if the pain was dulled. A flash of confusion, a scattering of colorful sparks before her eyes, and a general fuzziness to her vision and hearing. All this for a few seconds.

And a few seconds was all Trajan would need to rise up, flip his warhammer around in his hands and raise it up, then drive the pointed end of the head down hard into Heike's chest like a stake. The warhammer's pick end failed to penetrate the hardened bones of her ribcage--the only saving grace which spared her heart from being pierced. She cried out--the pain of the pick slamming into her ribcage more intense than the headbutt--and grabbed the warhammer's head with both hands.

Trajan punched down. Smashed her face with his metal hand; her head bouncing off of the floorboards of the balcony. Her nose did not break, but small tears to the flesh on her brow and around her eyes trickled bits of infected blood.

Heike ripped the bloodied pick end of the warhammer from the flesh of her pierced breast and wrenched the weapon to her right--toward the balcony's edge and the very same drop the blonde-haired mercenary had fallen from. To Trajan's credit, he held firm to his weapon and did not lose control of it. Heike would have followed up with an even more forceful wrenching to her left...but the stab wound in her back caused her momentum to falter.

Trajan freed the warhammer from Heike's grasp. Deftly used what momentum Heike herself had generated to loop the hammer from lateral motion to go up and smoothly into an overhead swing. Heike held up her left hand and the warhammer's flat end smashed and broke three of her fingers-claws: small, ring, and middle. Those three fingers now limp and dangling freely on her hand. But she had--though awkwardly--stopped the hammer's descent.

Heike, lying on the balcony floor the whole time, finally managed to kick Trajan's metal body away and create an opening for her to find her feet again and stand. She became aware then of Szesh battling the mercenaries directly behind her. She could only trust in him to fight well.

And it was here that Heike employed a feint.

 

[Trajan Meng]

The disfigured fiendish woman stumbled. Had he been able to deliver another blow to her chest, surely he would have broken through her formidable bones then and crushed her heart. But she appeared rattled by his earlier headbutt and punch.

Trajan could not wait for her to come to him. No. Rennegast's mercenaries were not faring well against the Draconian, and he--if he dispatched the clawed woman quickly--could assist them in striking the Draconian from the rear. The claw wounds suffered in his shoulders would be worrisome once his Iron Skin dropped, but the sooner this fight was done, the sooner the wounds could be tended to.

He approached the clawed woman. Readied a swing.

And Heike immediately exerted herself and burned a tremendous amount of blood in so doing. She shot forward like an arrow loosed from a longbow and her shoulder rammed into Trajan's metal stomach and the two of them went flying through one of the large windows of the Tower and inside they spilled amidst a rain of broken glass across the floor of the wizard's work study.

Heike on top of Trajan again. She exerted herself more and flung the warhammer from his grip as the man had been stunned for but a moment by the tackle. Once the Emblazoned Sun left Trajan's grasp his Iron Skin immediately expired and his flesh returned to normal.

Trajan grabbed her wrists. Summoned all the might of a mortal man to hold her claws at bay.

And Heike simply whipped her head down and bit into Trajan's face. Her top fangs sinking into his left cheek, her bottom teeth piercing through the soft flesh under the jaw.

From this, a shout of both abject pain and pure rage from Trajan.

 

[Ferelith Scathach]

“Stupid...Stairs..hate them....stupid wizard can summon...demons.. can’t find better..thing..than.. stairs..” She wheezed as she flew up the many flights to the top. Her tattoo glowed as she ran.

Repairing the physical effects of her injuries and leaving all of the pain. Her legs burned as if still shattered and her head felt still half split open.

In all honesty it probably was. Her magic was working for the moment and if she didn’t act quickly she could find no aid if it decided to fail again leaving her a half dead mess of half repaired wounds and ruptured organs. At least everything was back inside her at this point.

She just needed a good arcane infusion. She hoped the wizard could oblige when they met at the top.

A crash caught her attention before reaching the roof as the man that had been part of the whole “hired at the point of a sword.” Bit of her employment crashed through it with the vampire landing on top of him sinking her fangs into the mans face.

“You.” She spat her eyes narrowing as they locked on the person who had just tried very hard to kill her and very nearly succeeded.

She pulled one of her long hunting knives and sprinted forward diving into the woman hoping to tackle her and send her sprawling into a tangle of limbs.

Aiming to roll and end up on top Ferelith would pull the knife hovering over her foes ribs. She should have plunged it straight down but something stayed her hand. That feeling that she was doing something wrong struck her like an arrow causing her to hesitate.

“Should have bit me.” She said after a blink bringing up the knife blade and jamming it down next to her head. She couldn’t do it. She blinked again as it seemed even she herself was surprised. “What..” she said dumbfounded at the blade buried in the wood floor rather than her foes chest. A drop of blood falling from her still healing head.

If landing in the vampires mouth she would feel a surge of energy from the arcane charged blood of the pint sized girl. Pulling the knife free Feeelith seemed as if she was still debating what exactly to do with it. Something felt wrong about all of this, and the conflicting emotion was hindering her ability to fight.

It didn’t matter.

She shoved the feelings hindering her combat deep down.

She could never live a good life until she put this world behind her. Her record needed to be wiped clean or she could risk bringing all kinds of bounty hunters, patrols, and cut throats seeking fame to whatever place she chose to call home.

If these Xenos got in her way there was no helping it. She needed to end this quickly. Her gears turning her guard was down as the grip she had on Hieke keeping her pinned loosened.

 

[Szesh]

Szesh heard a crash behind him and allowed himself to glance back just in time to see the feet of the entangled pair fall through the window to the room below. It was just him and the dozen or so mercenaries remaining on the top floor. His teeth were bared, but this was more due to his panting breaths than anything else. His body was tired, he could feel it, but adrenaline was being steadily churned out into his blood, keeping the fatigue at bay. A thin stream of blood trickled down his leg from the arrow injury, adding but drops to the deluge of red that had formed from this battle.

The sellswords formed a half circle around him, but none stepped forward. Apparently seeing one of their comrades burnt alive had shaken their resolve. Slowly, Szesh crept back towards the broken window.

The tension was palpable. Perhaps ten feet separated him from his foes, and they closed on him as he moved backwards. He kept his spear pointed forwards, twisting back and forth to hold off any who might try to break the line.

An arrow glanced off his horn, dazing him for a moment. A large man with a massive red beard took this as his change, and ran at Szesh with a huge double-handed axe. Szesh regained himself just in time to drop his spear and grab the shaft of the axe. Both hands occupied, he lunged forwards with his head, sinking obsidian teeth through leather and flesh. The man screamed, dropping his weapon.

With a sickening crunch of ribs, Szesh shook the man’s body like a wild dog, flinging the limp carcass into the group of fighters. He lay, shaking and sputtering, until the light left his eyes.

There were still ten soldiers left on the roof, but fear had begun to take root. They were no stranger to atrocity, at least half of them had slaughtered women and children, but the pure savagery that Szesh had exhibited… it was immediately clear what they were facing.

A monster.

Szesh’s heart beat furiously. The tang of blood in his mouth had awoken an animal ferocity, and the hunger he had felt for a day surged. But there were far too many. Leaving his spear on the roof, he turned and darted through the window.

He landed in time to see Heike pinned by the blonde woman from before. How? He had seen her fall. It must be the wizard’s magic, or those indecipherable tattoos, or maybe there was more than one of them. He was about to assist when he noticed Trajan on the ground. Bleeding, unarmed, and vulnerable. He could kill him here. End this. Tear him apart, burn him, do it in any number of ways.

...No. Szesh had precious little he cared about in his life. He had lost everything that mattered long ago, and so little had come to take its place. He had not expected to meet Heike in the woods, he had not expected to fight alongside her against beasts and spirits and conspirators, and he had certainly not expected to find in her someone whose journey could mirror his own. Another one that had been cast out. Another one who didn’t belong. Suddenly, he didn’t have to feel these things alone.

He would not lose her.

He turned from the wizard and rushed towards the dueling pair. Raking with an open hand he attempted to grab Ferelith by the waist and hurl her into the wall.

 

[Trajan Meng]

Rennegast grumbled irritably once the window was broken and Trajan and Heike came spilling into his work study. He dealt with intruders countless times over the course of many years. It didn't matter who they were--bandits, raiders, mercenaries, Allirian Rangers, Templar, College Mages, whoever--it only mattered that they were trying to interrupt his work! This is what he had hired those mercenaries for, so he didn't have to do this sort of menial thing himself. Between them and this man Trajan's zealous men, surely they would be able to quell this interruption. Surely! There were intricacies of the arcane to practice upon these Catalysts, and he was in no mood for this sort of brutish distraction.

The Luminari warriors around Rennegast, however, were not so detached. One even shouted Trajan's name as they all witnessed him suffer the bite of the monstrous woman. Fortunately, in a favorable turn of timing, Ferelith--one of the mercenaries--had just come up from the stairs and tackled the monstrous woman.

Three of the Luminari warriors crossed the distance of the work study, from Rennegast at his table to Trajan lying there bleeding on the floor, and helped Trajan up to his feet. Blood and saliva dripped out through the vicious holes left by Heike's teeth in his cheek and under his jaw. The pain seared through the nerves of his body, the weave of agony threading down to his knees and threatening to bring him crashing back down to the ground.

Yet Trajan tried desperately to shirk off the help of his three warriors. Tried to reach down for his warhammer on the floor as blood from the ten deep claw wounds in his shoulders soaked into his tunic. But his body was too weak to resist the aid of the three men who carried him away from Ferelith and Heike and Szesh as they fought. Too weak, in fact, to stand under his own power any longer.

The three men brought Trajan back behind Rennegast (working on the Catalyst and paying no mind to anything else) and laid him down on the floor. And then the six Luminari warriors formed up in front of the wizard and in front of their leader, shields raised.

All Trajan could do was writhe under the grip of the mind-numbing pain radiating out from his partially ravaged face.

If only he were still young.

He could have given more. Pushed through. Seen this fight to its end. And now, because of his body's lacking, he could do nothing to save his men from harm. From dying.

Damn it! It should be him, battling against the clawed woman and the Draconian. The blonde-haired mercenary, by some magic or miracle, had been saved from death. And Trajan would fail her again, for he could not fight alongside her. Too slow before, too weak now.

 

[Heike Eisen]

Surprise forced Heike's teeth loose from the bald man's face. Down and off of him she went, and, to her further surprise, she looked up into the face of the blonde-haired mercenary. The same blonde-haired mercenary whom she had thrown from the top of the tower. Here. Already. And very much alive and well.

A drop of blood fell from the mercenary's face. Landed on Heike's right cheek and caused an involuntary scrunching up of her eye in reaction.

Should have bit me.

And the mercenary plunged her knife down and...missed. How was that even possible. That shouldn't have happened. Period. Even the most untrained and green fighting man or woman should've had her there, their weapon driven into her chest before she could mount an appropriate defense.

Heike didn't understand it, but she did not question this favorable turn of events either. She thrust her hands up, seeking to jam her clawed thumbs into the mercenary's neck and rip it open...but that didn't happen. Szesh, having come inside the Tower proper from the balcony outside, tore the mercenary off of her and flung her away.

A surge of joy at seeing Szesh--alive and mostly well--coming to her aid. Heike sprung up and onto her feet and bumped his arm with a soft fist in a show of camaraderie and gratitude.

Then the six Luminari warriors charged at the two of them. Three splitting off for Szesh, three for Heike.

And here she would need to spend blood. The men looked well-trained, but they seemed to be mundane men; they did not have the magic of the mercenary. Their steel was deadly--the swords and spears and even the metal rim of their round shields--but they would not be as resilient.

Heike exerted herself and fought briefly with the three warriors that had come for her. A blur of inhuman movement, acrobatic and disorienting dodges, reflexive strikes and disarms, maneuvering around their shields and their armor to strike at weaknesses in their chainmail and their gambesons and exposed flesh. By the end, one warrior was on the ground missing his left leg below the knee, another bleeding profusely from his brachial artery, and the last beheaded.

As the beheaded warrior fell, Heike turned in an exhausted way to see how Szesh fared. No blow had struck Heike in the fight, but her previous wounds to her back and her side and her chest had torn open more through her exertions. Noticeable splotches of blood stained her coat and her shirt underneath in these spots.

 

[Ferelith Scathach]

“Hey! Let me go you scaly son of-“ Ferelith began as she was torn off of her prey and thrown into the wall behind her. Her tattoo flickered as she slammed into the wall. “Stop throwing me around I’m not a toy!” She spat standing up slowly.

Her right shoulder stitching back together she felt like a rag doll made of a patchwork of cloth. She saw the bald man carried away as she stood.

Her knife lodged in the floor and forgotten she cracked her knuckles. Seeing the dragon man still occupied with the guards her eyes locked with the vampire once more. She needed to engage and keep her from helping her friend who was still busy with his share of the fancy guards.

They were just humanists Ferelith didn’t know their proper name.

She rushed forward and moved to deliver a Superman punch to the leeches jaw with enough power to break every finger in her right hand. If successful she would shake her right hand as the bones slowly mended.

Things were starting to heal slower. What usually took moments was taking minutes.

“That was for throwing me off this stupid tower.” She spat. Literally spat as blood fell from her mouth and splattered to the wood floor along with two teeth.

“So come on leech. Let’s see what you’ve got against a slip of a girl like me.” She growled sinking into a hand to hand fighting stance. Her eyes cold and focused, all flirtatious winks and playful banter far from her mind.

 

[Szesh]

Despite her disproportionate strength, Ferelith was light and Szesh easily flung her aside. He snarled at her until Heike’s fist tapped his arm, and he looked to see her on her feet and more or less intact. If he could have formed a wry smirk, he would have. Here they stood, in spite of everything thrown against them.

But more was to come. From the corner of his eye he saw three more fighters approach. Unlike the mercenaries above these men wore matching uniforms and moved in organized formation. They were true soldiers.

He was without a weapon. Blood still dripping from his chin, he would need to fight like the beast he appeared to be. Where Heike employed speed, he would push through with brute strength alone. The knight’s shields would protect them from his claws and teeth, but they wouldn’t stop the force of a blunt strike.

He feinted with a swipe of his claws as he stepped forwards, then spun on the spot and swept his tail across the group. He caught the rightmost guard square in the chest, and though he blocked with his shield he was knocked over. The other two remained standing but unsteady. Using this moment of confusion, Szesh grabbed the ankle of the fallen man, dragged him forwards, and caved in his skull with a well placed fist.

His allies were unfazed by this, and they swung shimmering blades in coordination. They bit into his scales and sliced two neat gashes into his arm. They were not grievously deep, but they were painful, and any blood lost at this point was precious.

He stepped back, finding himself cornered. Growling, snarling like a caged bear. He had meant to grab the dead guard’s weapon, but that was now out of his reach.

He could see the wizard, beaten but protected by his loyal servants. Saw Heike engaged yet again with the blonde woman. Her coat was covered in blood, but he could not say whose. Another man was here, but he was huddled over glowing artifacts that Szesh recognized from the chest in the forest. The other two catalysts.

Szesh’s original reason for coming here was to steal the remaining two, pure monetary gain. The thought still appealed to him, but his priorities had shifted. The strength of this wizard, the number and zeal of his followers... the world would be better for their deaths.

He stepped further back, felt the wall against his tail. Saw two of the mercenaries from before hop in through the window.

It was time. Burn it. Burn it all. The voice spoke inside him. They were outnumbered, trapped, their quarry weakened but defended.

He needed to warn Heike of what was to come. Maybe she could get near an exit. He glanced around and... no.

He saw a peanut. Lying on the floor.

No time. He picked it up, flung it over the guards and towards the fighting women, and looked back at his foes.

It would be his last fire for some time. Hungry and tired, his inner flame had grown cold and small. Baring his teeth, he took deeper and deeper breaths, willing nearly all of his remaining fuel to feed the fire. He felt it’s warmth grow, and an orange light began to form at the back of his throat.

The guards were not stupid, and though their faces showed fear at ehat they were not quick enough to avoid it.

Fire swept the room from Szesh’s corner. He painted the floor, the far wall, and the ceiling with it. The guards’ robes caught and they crumpled into shrieking heaps. The knights around Trajan held fast, but the flames were closing.

Szesh took a knee, legs shaking as he peered through the rippling heat for Heike.

 

[Trajan Meng]

Trajan mustered what resolve he could. Mind fighting desperately with embattled body. And he rolled over onto his stomach and grit his teeth and blood ran down his shattered face from his cheek and down his neck from his jaw.

He crawled.

One arm placed in front of the other, pushing forward with his legs, dragging himself along, his body alight with shooting pain from his wounds, he crawled. Slow and determined, he crawled. Away from Rennegast's vicinity and toward his warhammer, lying on the floor some two dozen paces from him.

He believed. With all his heart, he believed that he could reach his weapon and make a difference. Save at least one life of his Luminari faithful.

And then Szesh's fire poured over his legs and set them ablaze. Rennegast casually shielded himself and his table with a conjuration of frost magic and kept on working his enchantment on the Catalyst.

Trajan yelled as his agony reached heights unimaginable and with a burst of adrenaline frantically rolled and stamped his legs furiously against the floor and smacked at them with his hands in a crazed effort to put out the flames burning through his pants.

 

[Heike Eisen]

Heike didn't have time to spot Szesh for more than a split second. A mid-air punch from the blonde-haired mercenary sent her reeling back and down to one knee. She steadied, spared herself a complete collapse onto the floor. Heike boosted herself back up and onto her feet again, brandishing her claws.

The girl was relentless. Heike could not say what drived her--zealous faith of some kind, pursuit of gold, even just simply looking for violence where she could find it. But she was here, in this wizard's Tower full of the guilty, and she stood on the side of this wizard and whatever he had in mind to do with the Catalysts.

She stood out from the other mercenaries in relative threat, but she was still one among them. And she would either yield or die. There could be no other way. The guilty would be brought to justice; Heike's Oath demanded it.

So come on leech.

Hand-to-hand. This had the potential to get messy.

"Don't get my blood inside of you," Heike said. She would let the girl make of that what she will.

Then.

Something bounced off of Heike's forehead. She saw it.

A peanut. Irritation was Heike in that moment. It...what. Did the spirit from the mill follow them all the way--

Szesh. It was Szesh, she saw. And she knew what he was about to do, seeing and hearing him. And at this juncture a risky idea overcame her, and, in the pulse of combat where time was short and so very precious, she made her decision. Szesh might not like it. Heike certainly wasn't going to like it. But it could work...work where a fall from the Tower's height did not.

Heike rushed forward toward the blonde mercenary. Didn't exert herself for speed. Not yet. She raised up her right hand, preparing to rake her claws down on the girl...but it was a feint.

Heike exerted herself for a burst of speed then and then went low and sought to catch the girl in a kind of embrace. To wrap her arms around the girl's chest--maybe she would catch her arms as well, maybe not. She would seek to catch the girl and hug herself to her and turn the girl such that her back would be facing Szesh and his fiery breath. Heike's arms would burn too, and that was going to be nothing short of a localized hell...but perhaps she could hold the mercenary in place, let Szesh's flame roast the backside of the girl's body. Most of Heike's body would be shielded by the girl's own by simply bending her back and her knees some to bring herself down to the mercenary's height, to protect her own head and face by pressing it into the girl's chest.

It was a very dangerous gamble.

Because it all relied on Heike actually catching the girl in the embrace.

Szesh Ferelith Scathach

 

[Ferelith Scathach]

Ferelith has grinned in gruesome happiness for the violence that was to come. Then she saw her vampire foe cast a glance at her friend. Curiosity getting the better of her Ferelith glanced as well.

*dont let any of my blood get inside you.*

She saw what was coming.

As she looked back at her foe’s words she was already caught in a tight embrace. Her mind working in over drive she let her instincts take over.

Feeling claws sink into her back she planted her feet and shoved backwards through the wide double doors that framed the entrance to the towers staircase. She launched herself backwards as the flames licked her back.

“I’m not your shield.” She spat through grit teeth rolling in mid air and letting her foe get a taste of her own friends flames if only for a moment. Sadly this meant she sacrificed her positioning in doing this and found herself under the vampire as they tumbled down the stairs.

Ferelith acting as a cushion as they fell down a flight stopping on one of the many landings used every story to allow people to stand aside and pass each other in the small hallway. Her nose was broken along with her arm and the tattoo was flickering as it struggled to heal her. Still clutched in her foes embrace she tried to squirm away.

“Let-Let me go!” She pleaded. Her small frame leaving the vampire easily able to wrap her fully in her clutches. She pinned her foes arms down by putting her full weight on them.

The claws dug in deeper but she winced and remained braced.

If those claws got loose she wouldn’t stand a chance. Only when her eyes met the vampires did she realize she hadn’t guarded against her teeth.

So close was their embrace that she could feel her heart thundering in her chest against the vampires non existent beat of any kind. She choked on blood clogging her throat as it spilled from her lips.

No doubt due to repaired ruptured organs becoming re ruptured along with her bruised ribs. Fight hadn’t left her but she felt weak.

Tired.

Something she was not used to feeling.

 

[Szesh]

Heike was gone, as was her opponent. At first Szesh worried that they had been caught in the blaze, but that could not be so. He didn't know how Heike's particular "breed" of vampire would react to fire, but he felt certain that the blonde woman would not be incinerated so quickly. No, they must have left the room, and the open doors to the stairwell confirmed this.

He was a long way from the doors and in no condition to rush. The guards that had been attacking him lay charred on the ground, the wizard's defenders stayed around him, although their eyes were on the draconian now, and whoever this man was that tinkered away... he was the very definition of single-mindedness.

Szesh used the fleeting moments to focus on breathing. The air was thick with smoke, but this did not bother him much. The heat was comforting, it reminded him that he was safe for the time being. The smoke smelled of wood, paper, and ink, but most of all flesh and hair. It was a repulsive odor to most creatures, but to draconians, who often joked that they could hunt and cook their food at the same time, it was appetizing.

Hunger. Overwhelming hunger. The adrenaline was unable to keep him going at this point. Fire needed fuel, but unfortunately, so did the rest of his body. He eyed the fallen guards just in front of him.

Well... when necessity demands...

He dragged one solider by the boot towards himself. It took him a minute to cut through the leather straps of the armor, but soon he found what he needed. He crouched in the corner, illuminated by flickering flames, hastily devouring a once brave warrior. It was not a proud moment, and it certainly did not endear his kind to the humans who watched him, but it was unavoidable.

The flames were nearly as hungry as he was, and they surged across the wooden room. Sated for the time being, Szesh dropped his quarry and moved towards an outside window. An inconvenient fact about draconians: they were not immune to their own fire. Their scales gave considerable resistance to heat, of course, but if he moved too slowly through the tracts of flame he too would burn.

This is why he ran. He bolted on long legs for the window and crashed through, falling into the inky night. His wings opened and caught the air, mercifully cool after the inferno within. Surely no one within the room would survive the blaze, and if they did, well, it's not like they had anywhere to run. As far as he could see, he was the only one around with wings.

He landed on the soft earth before the tower's main entrance. If Heike had moved down, perhaps he could meet her halfway. Pushing open the double doors he began to climb the stairs.

 

[Trajan Meng]

Rennegast sighed as the smell of smoke began to bother him. These good for nothing mercenaries and this lousy man Trajan and his so-called "warriors." Could they not handle two intruders? Two. Only two.

Rennegast looked up from the Catalyst on his table; as he suspected, all of Trajan's warriors were dead. Staining the carpet of his work study with their blood. And no doubt when Rennegast went for his morning lounge on the balcony, he would find some unsavory mercenary corpses. Typical. Would he need to hire servants to keep his Tower clean and orderly? Perhaps those servants could also serve as guards. Might as well. They'd put up as much of a fight as these "mercenaries" and "warriors." It seemed destined that his work was to suffer constant interruptions.

And to think he was nearly done with this Catalyst. Then Trajan could take it and the other one away (it seemed quite unlikely now that the third would arrive, of course) and do whatever it was he was planning on doing. Rennegast didn't know and didn't care. It mattered only that Trajan was one of the many men who would bring him arcane components on which to work and practice and further master his craft.

So, as Rennegast sprayed his work study with a torrent of frost magic, dowsing the fires spread by that Draconian's breath (how long had it been since he examined the organs of so mythical a creature?), he turned his attention down to Trajan on the floor. Trajan, struggling mightily to put out the fire consuming his lower half. The smell of smoke was bothering Rennegast, and he did desire for Trajan to bring him more components in the future...it was a favor he could impart.

Rennegast then sprayed Trajan's legs with some of his frost magic, extinguishing the flames.

And Trajan laid there, panting and sweating and suffering, his pants naught but loose tatters and severe burns up and down his legs.

Along with the fire, any belief that he could still fight was likewise extinguished.

Trajan could merely resign himself to his fate.

 

[Heike Eisen]

Heike had thought she could hold the girl still long enough. She thought wrong.

In a counter move that, once again, displayed the girl's disproportionate strength compared to her petite size, she launched herself and thus Heike as well back through the staircase doors. Even maneuvered such that Heike caught some of Szesh's flame while they tumbled in mid-air.

And Heike cried out as the excruciating sensation of burning, made twice as agonizing by the weakness inherited from her affliction, spread across her back and seized up her entire body. Her mind descended into nothing save pain and panic as her back was alight.

Both Heike and the mercenary tumbled down the stairs locked tightly in that harsh embrace, rolling over once, twice--enough to smother the burgeoning flame on Heike's back--and it so happened that when they hit the landing Heike was on top but her arms and her claws were pinned beneath the mercenary's body (and her own shivering weight in addition to the girl's).

Let-Let me go!

Heike couldn't, even if she wanted to. The last bits of steam rose from her back and her singed coat, and she could only lay there on top of the girl. Her body trembling and shaking from the torment of the short-lived fire. Heike's strength would return, but in these small moments her body entire was under the tyranny of shock and fatigue.

Heike breathed. Uneven breaths, laden with the exhaustion following agony's departure. It was not a necessary act, breathing, but she did it subconsciously, as if her mind was reaching back to a time when this simple act provided her some good.

And Heike lay on top of the mercenary, the side of her head flat on the girl's chest. As if listening for a heartbeat. Yet, whether she wanted to listen to it or not, Heike felt it. Pounding against her foe's chest and through to her own ear.

"Yield," Heike said, in a voice that was far closer to a tired whisper than a forceful demand. "Just yield."

There wasn't much downside to at least trying. Heike knew she wasn't in much of a position to be insisting on a yield from her foe, but maybe the mercenary wasn't in much of a position to refuse said yielding. Either the mercenary would, or she would not, this latter circumstance leading to the same outcome if Heike had not tried at all: a continuation of their fight.

If it came to that, Heike need only survive until Szesh came, and then the struggle would shift heavily into their favor.

Szesh Ferelith Scathach

 

[Ferelith Scathach]

“You...First..” Ferelith wheezed back through grit teeth.

She did blush slightly at the woman’s head flat to her chest. She was pretty even if she was a leech.

She shoved this from her mind as her strength felt like it was beginning to return and the vampire lacking the apparent will to bite her she began to try and fight yet again freeing her arms she slammed a fist into the vampire back.

At least she meant to.

What happened instead was an arm lightly landing on her back in a weak attempt. Why was the vampire not sinking her teeth into her? She needed to heal and didn’t drinking blood do that, and it would weaken her considerably. Blood being one of the ways the arcane magic that kept her strong and alive spread through her body. Her nose clicked back into place as well as her arm. However her healing had slowed to a crawl.

Her nose while unbroken still bled profusely and her arm while no longer broken was now a fracture rather than fully healed. She wasn’t used to fights taking this long. Nor fighting a foe as resilient as herself. Feeling the claws digging deeper in her struggle she groaned in pain.

“Fine..You blood sucking parasite..I..I yield..” She finally groaned out going limp with a tired sigh.

“Besides I’ve never been held like this by someone this pretty without money changing hands. Usually aren’t any claws dug an inch in my back but..” She wheezed.

“Worth it.” She quipped with a chuckle that sounded like it hurt and ended in a coughing fit. Her heart beat was beginning to slow. Her eyes starting to cloud over.

“Don’t let me die here if you would..” She choked out.

“If I die on a set of stairs I lose a bet.”

 

[Szesh]

Szesh's legs burned with a different fire altogether. Though he took the steps three at a time it seemed to make no difference in the duration of his climb. How high up had they been? The tower was more impressive a structure than he had given it credit for, and seeing as the main walls were mostly stone, he was dismayed to realize that his fire would not, in fact, lead to its collapse.

Had they failed? Was the wizard the iron man or the person huddled over the catalysts? Neither were dead, although the former might well be soon. He and Heike had killed many, but not all of the mercenaries and soldiers. Szesh certainly wasn't going to get his prize of the other two catalysts unless they continued to fight, and neither of them were in great shape to do that.

He rounded another landing and started to wonder if Heike was in this stairwell at all. Maybe the door she fell through had gone somewhere else, or maybe they had fallen from another window. No, she had to be here, he just had to keep going.

Finally he saw them. A huddled, quavering mass. Where they dead? No, they were breathing, but they were not fighting. He thundered up to the landing, stopping. Heike lay on the tattooed woman, and the blonde was in very bad shape. Apparently that healing magic had its limits.

Deciding it was safe to approach, Szesh knelt by the pair. "Heike," he said in his reptilian rumble. He had no other words to offer. The tower burned above them, their enemy lay bleeding before them. What would she do? She had to bring the wizard to justice, she had said so. Had she accomplished this? Would she climb the stairs to face him again?

Szesh did not know what he wanted her to say. He disliked the thought that he had failed, but he was of half a mind to abandon the tower and reclaim the single catalyst he had buried in the forest. A dozen conflicting thoughts crossed his mind, but he was more concerned by the blood that continued to weep from Heike's wounds. He felt a stab of guilt when he saw that her back had been burned.

One thing he did know, was that this mercenary had given them no shortage of trouble. If they were to fight on, it would be without her interference. He slowly reached out for her neck with a single claw...

 

[Heike Eisen]

Heike winced sharply as the mercenary's fist hit her on the back. Even if it was less of a hit and more of an exhausted collapsing, the contact still aggravated the burns on Heike's back. This pain, however, paled in comparison to the short-lived fire, and was gone away quickly.

Fine..You blood sucking parasite..I..I yield..

Heike sighed at near the same time as the girl herself at this. Both of them were physically spent, injured to alarming degrees, but Heike had the upper hand on account of Szesh, even considering the girl's magic. All of the mercenary's allies were either dead, incapacitated, or--in the case of that mage (the wizard? the mastermind behind it all? both?) at the table--apparently unconcerned. And Szesh would be here soon. Heike knew it, and so did the mercenary.

Thus, the yield. Some thought there was only shame in surrender, but it was not so. There were times in which one ought give their life, and times in which so doing would be foolish. The creed of "victory or death" was often savage or fanatical nonsense in most circumstances; the civilized people of Arethil did not adhere to said creed in the absolute.

And so it fell to Heike now to be civilized, to show grace in victory, and to afford onto the mercenary now in her custody the humane care she would wish for herself if in similar custody. This would remain so until: the mercenary's guilt was substantiated and she was punished accordingly, or the mercenary was deemed not guilty and allowed to go free. Sellswording in and of itself was not a crime, but there were unscrupulous sellswords walking Arethil who went beyond simple battle against other warriors and ventured into theft, murder of the innocent, and other unlawful acts. It would be seen if was so here.

Besides I’ve never been held like this by someone this pretty...

Heike's breathing paused. The compliment was arresting. Disarming in a way that came as little surprise. In the five years of her affliction, five years of her skin having gone pale and her eyes having turned yellow and her fingers having turned to claws, five years of being reviled as a repugnant and abhorrent monster (or a blood sucking parasite) and spurned with extreme prejudice by nearly everyone she encountered, a simple compliment was a brief and welcome reprieve from this living nightmare. A cherished relic of a bygone time, thought to be lost forever, never to be experienced again.

Blood flushed her cheeks--another relic of a bygone time. And Heike resumed breathing, needless and useless as it was.

The girl had a coughing fit, and Heike could both hear and feel her heartbeat slowing. A calming down from the excitement of battle? Or worse? Had the mercenary's magic reached its limit?

Heike barely had the strength, but she planted her knees on the landing and raised her body up some, relieving the weight of her own body from the girl and thus Heike's claws pinned beneath. She said, "I'm not going to let you die. You're in my custody and in my care. I'm going--" Heike winced as a fresh radiation of pain flowed from her burned back, "--to pull my claws out. Slowly. Alright?"

She didn't wait for an acknowledgement; as she said, she slowly withdrew her claws from the girl's back and slid her hands out from underneath her. Blood, tinged with that same magic of the girl's tattoo, coated her claws. She looked at it for just a moment, reminded that she would need to feed--a lot, having suffered a substantial burn wound--and sleep for a quite a long while to heal every injury she'd suffered.

And Heike, her claws now freed, lay back down on top of the mercenary, unable to keep herself up and moving just yet. This was concerning, especially if it so happened that the girl (now, of all times) needed some manner of assistance to keep from bleeding out. Heike simply wouldn't have the strength to help for another few minutes.

"I have...coagulation potions, if you need them. On my belt," she said. "I'm sorry. I can't get to them myself. Not yet."

Szesh arrived a moment or two later, his saying of her name heralded well in advance by his heavy footfalls up the stairs. Heike had enough strength to lift her head and turn it and lay it back down, such that she could see him.

"Szesh. Good news," she said with a wry smile, "I didn't burn comple--"

Heike cut off her joking tone and raised her voice in alarm when Szesh, unaware of the current situation, reached a claw out toward the mercenary's neck.

"Wait, wait, wait! Szesh, don't! She surrendered. She's in my custody. I'm honorbound to provide her reasonable care."

Szesh Ferelith Scathach

 

[Ferelith Scathach]

Fereliths eyes cleared from her spaced out state. Her bleeding had finally halted...somewhat.

And her arm had healed from a fracture to a deep bruise. She passed out blacking our from pain for a moment when Heike pulled her claws free.

“Thanks..But that won’t be required...I just need time..I’ll be fine..I think..” Ferelith panted.

“In your custody huh.. what are you then? Some kind of bounty hunter?” She said with another pained chuckle. The arm that she had been across her back was placed there again gently above her former foes neck where the burns didn’t quite reach as the vampire laid back down. It was a sort of embrace.

It was almost peaceful in a way.

With this she slowly let her eyes close. It couldn’t have been but a moment of the dark embrace of rest that heavy footfalls demanded clearing the restful clouds from her brain.

Danger was close.

The first thing she felt was the vampire on top of her. The first thing she saw however was far less pleasant. Her tattoo now a dull pulse. Her hands shot out to the outstretched claw.

One hand wrapping a round the claw it’s self. The other halting its advance by the wrist. Her instincts taking over she reacted without thinking.

Dead to Heikes cries and calls for a halting of what had been set in motion. Her instincts not allowing for any other distractions other than the task at hand.

Throwing the claw aside with as much force as she could muster she then would buck forward throwing the vampire off of her. Using the upward momentum she would push off the ground.

Drawing herself almost stomach level to the massive dragon man that had tried to kill her and drew both knees to her chest firing a massive donkey kick hopefully into his stomach sending him down a few flights winded.

Landing heavily with a groan she would pull herself up to her hands and knees and crawled to the possibly still prone vampire.

If this was the case she would mount her. Looking around for a weapon of any kind her eyes would suddenly rest on Heikes hands.

Pinning her left arm by the wrist she would twist Heikes right arm closing her hand around the vampires own with a vice like grip forcing her two unbroken fingers to point straight and the rest of the hand to make a fist.

Assuming she wasn’t interrupted by the leech pulling a fast one and had successfully distanced the dragon ally from her and her blood sucking foe. She would summon the last drops of her strength to try and drive her two finger claws down into Heikes own heart. Her claws easily being able to cut through her foes hardened bones. In her tired and frayed state however she made a mistake.

Keeping Heike pinned even with her strength had taken a lot out of her. The ordeal with her man dragon foe left her seeing spots as it was. Further more even in her equally weakened state Heike was stronger than her. Her grip keeping her pinned already beginning to fail.

So to aid her downward plunge she leaned forward and put all of her weight on the hand trying to force her improvised weapon down faster. Sadly her weight minus claymore and quiver and parts of her armor was unlike her strength very proportional to her size meaning even with her putting her entire weight on the hand it refused to go down.

This in consequence left her almost cheek to cheek with her foe. Having shown a seemingly almost moral aversion to biting her Ferelith hadn’t given it a second thought when taking the gamble.

She was confident her weight would sink the woman’s own claws into her heart before the leech could work up any defense with her claws.

But it hadn’t.

She didn’t even give the other woman a second glance staring at the ground on which they lay with a grim, chilled stare.

Waiting to hear bone sinking into flesh. Then undoubtedly her dragon friend would return and kill and more than likely eat her if she wasn’t already dead by over exerting herself like this. She wasn’t a stupid woman and knew she had surpassed her truely combat effective limit long before now, and after this fight she would either be dead or easy prey. However, none of that mattered to Ferelith.

It would be worth it to kill the creature that promised mercy in surrender only to slit her throat after she relaxed and dropped her guard.

A trust seemingly broken.

“Just relax and yield.” She snarled in a cold mocking tone next to Heikes ear. Her neck inches from Heikes mouth.

 

[Szesh]

Szesh was relieved to hear Heike’s voice, however tired and broken it sounded. His hand froze at her warning, but before he could comprehend her words Ferelith grabbed his hand and flung it aside with her incredible strength. Szesh felt the muscles in his arm stretch and his shoulder pop uncomfortably as his limb was flung back. Off balance, all he could do was watch as she wound up and slammed her boots into his belly.

He fell backwards, clearing almost an entire flight and slamming into the next landing. He growled in pain, landing on his wings always hurt. He was dazed and confused, and as was the usual progression, this turned hastily to anger.

The mercenary had of course lied, never intending to truly yield. That was the new reality in his mind. He struggled to rise, his wounded leg failing him more and more with each passing minute. His slashed arm still wept blood, and it proved insufficient to hold his weight on its own.

Finally he was able to roll over and push himself back up to his feet, using the wall as support. He turned and started back up the stairs. Still winded from the kick, this took some time. He saw the two women, entangled once again, this time with Ferelith on top. Saw her grab Heike’s twisted hand, trying to push it down into her chest.

He climbed, bent over and grabbing at the steps with his good arm. He climbed, with wings drooping and tail dragging. He had no fire, the impromptu meal would take time to process, and indeed his body had already diverted much of its energy to digestion.

He was not going to make it. He saw Heike’s claws dip lower, could see them perilously close to her chest. He knew what this tattooed creature was trying to do. He would push her aside when he reached them. He would tear at her flesh with his claws and rip that loathsome glowing ink from her bones… but only half-way up the steps, he could not intervene yet.

He looked at Heike’s face, twisted with pain, effort, surprise. The face of a noble vampire, a contradiction in flesh. He saw Ferelith’s neck just a hair’s width from her lips.

”Heike!” he rasped, ”Feed!”

She had to. She had to defend herself. If she let herself be killed by her own valor, he would not forgive her.

 

[Heike Eisen]

Herr Elias was right. Heike's honor had been taken advantage of, and the mercenary made the most of the opportunity. Foolishly, Heike had thought the girl spent, when in truth she was biding her time. Perhaps purposefully attempting to endear herself to Heike to lower her guard. And it worked, didn't it? A disarming compliment, indeed. Not all weapons were made of steel or magic.

Heike was thrown off and Szesh--the massive Szesh--was kicked down the stairs and to the lower landing. The mercenary had recovered her strength quickly, even after having suffered her earlier fall from the tower and everything hence. Far faster than Heike could after suffering her burn wound.

And thus she was unable to properly defend herself once the mercenary mounted her. Heike lay, pain surging from the burn wound on her back as the contact with the floor of the landing sparked it once more, and her own claws were used against her. Driven down by the mercenary's weight. Plunged like chisels into the same chest wound Trajan had opened earlier with his warhammer.

Heike winced and grimaced and tried to hold it in but she closed her eyes and her sharp cry of pain escaped her throat inevitably as her claws delved into her rib cage, tumbling into cracks previously made. She grit her teeth, snarled, opened her eyes and scowled with an intense and defiant fury. Die in a manner in which your fellow knights would aspire to. Herr Elias, again, and his poignant words.

Just relax and yield.

"So...It was...just a ruse...then." Her words, spoken with a strained and ferocious effort.

Heike! Feed!

"This isn't."

As it had been with Trajan, Heike was reduced to using the one weapon which she was always loath to use: her teeth, her fangs. She had been glad that Szesh did not see her feed, see what she was cursed to do, when they had first met in the thieves' camp. But she could not hide it now.

Feed. Become the monster you hate, kin to the same who destroyed Reikhurst and took everything from you. Feed, Heike. Or die.

Heike snapped at the mercenary's neck and her fangs found flesh. Sank in. She clamped down, hard and vicious. And that euphoric warmth, that sinful pleasure, rushed through her fangs and into her mouth and down her throat. Heavy and greedy breaths, in and out of Heike's nose, echoes of intimate moments from years ago, twisted by her affliction into becoming associated with so revolting an act as this. Heike's heart began to beat--springing to life and pump the fresh blood throughout her body and turn what was stolen into hers. Heike kicked with her legs, partly out of shuddering and spasmodic pleasure and partly out of an attempt to gain purchase with her feet and roll over. End up, perhaps, on top of the mercenary again for more control and with one arm freed.

Something strange with the girl's blood. Surely the tinge of blue magic she'd seen earlier, the same of the tattoo. It was muted within Heike's body, dampened by her particular strain of vampirism, but it was still...there. Quiet, but not silenced.

She ignored it for now. Kept feeding. Mayhap the mercenary would find it harder to regenerate, harder to recover her strength, without sufficient blood.

Mayhap Heike would drain enough to kill her. It seemed the only option, now that the girl had relinquished her yield.

So be it.

Szesh Ferelith Scathach

 

[Ferelith Scathach]

Ferelith’s eyes lit up with malice as she felt the claws begin to sink into her foes chest. Now in her victory her mind relaxed allowing words previously mute to her reach her ears as the pounding if yet somewhat slower sound of the furnace gut coming up the stairs to aid his comrade.

"So...It was...just a ruse...then."
Her strained words caused Ferelith to relax her grip and pull the claws free. Indignation and confusion washing over her expression. “A ruse?”
She began to speak before she heard the rumble of the dragons voice causing her to look away breaking off her tirade to see how close her other foe was.

That was when she felt it.

A chill in her spine that told her danger was close.

“This isn’t.”

She turned back at her foes words only to freeze.

Her eyes going wide as Heike kissed her neck? Blood rushed to her cheeks as she let out a soft, surprised exhale of breath hardly feeling the teeth sink into her neck easily and she felt any reserves of strength leave her body. Her “Wait! No! What are you-ah!” She Gasped in pain as the pressure in her neck increased. Her hands moved up to Heikes head in weak and pitiful attempts to pry her off.

Her hand already sliced and bleeding from catching the dragons claw dropped from her foes head and pressed into her side trying to push her away and pushing into the wound she had inflicted. The tainted blood sinking into the large cut in her hand. Weak to begin with and fading her struggling soon relaxed. Her foe finally able to roll her over and gain more control. The hand remaining on the head went limp along with the hand on her side.

“You...ask for a yield only to have your...friend slit my throat.....While I rested...Then call....my yield a ruse? I unlike you have honor in my word..You monsters are all alike..” She struggled out between shallow breaths before squeaking in pain as more blood was taken and falling into a cloudy eyed stare of shallow breathing.

Her head rested on the floor as she felt the breathing and now beating heart of her foe pressing against her. Stealing more of her life with every moment.

“At least be more gentle. It’s my first time after all..” she whispered out with a slight smirk of someone trying to cope with their fast approaching death.