Open Chronicles The Town of Gorinsbin

[Traecon Maxwell]

This vampire's thralls were not restricted to those he could see. Barring the rebellious one attacking her own kin, Traecon fixed his gazed on the one clearly dominant above them all, sword clenched tighter. His words would have elicited some response, surely. He had derided their bloodthirst, their longevity, mocking their powers as though he were a haughty and proud ruler upon peasants. But this one could be royalty for all he cared - she would die all the same. The reward did not matter for him now - slaying such egotistical personalities was reward enough.

Sure enough...

"You dare?!"

He relaxed his posture almost immediately, turning sideways to feel claws miss burying into his back by mere inches, flying past and grinding to a halt on all fours. Its nails left marks on the stone earth, its fanged maw open to show its forked tongue. Blood-red eyes gazed with such fury it almost seemed alive, in spite of its emancipated state. Nigh-skeletal, with the pale skin stretched so thin over the bones it appeared to have no muscles of any sort. Traecon could only chuckle at its defiance, fueling its anger further.

"That and more, little leech. Her silence and aggression to her own species," He gestured to the rogue vampiress, "Only proves my point. Unlike her, you will not live to see the night fall once again."

With an anguished howl, the skeletal vampire leapt, almost blurring as his inhumane strength broke the stone beneath. The distance was short, barely a pebble's toss from the vampire to Traecon. It was confident, beneath its haze of rage, its claw would shatter the man's skull like so much glass. No human could possibly react that fast unless -

Shink!

"Amateurish."

Cleft in twain like a butcher with his meat, two halves of the skeleton slid behind him harmlessly. the wounds seared beyond recovery in both mind and soul, if that hellspawn had anything to call itself a soul anymore, that is. The runeblade was held out in a single-handed grip, despite it being a size worthy of an executioner's block.

"Telegraphing a straightforward lunge? To a swordsman like me? I cannot even think up a word for the stupidity I've seen from your minions." Any decently trained fighter could predict such a base maneuver from a mile off. but this was just sad. He couldn't even think up more adjectives to describe them - a small feat, as he was nowhere as near well-spoken as Focraig, his friendly ice mage.

He had hoped to goad that mistress of theirs into attacking too, but oh well. Looks like he would make the first move.

From his stance, the change was swift, and violent. The left gauntlet blurred, and the moment he outstretched it in a punch, the very air seemed to burst, sending a wall of heated air like a battering ram.

Heike Eisen Elijah Khalo Celasaer Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Nyrial

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

What treacherous words,

what an awful melody.

​

Erën looked on as the Mistress proclaimed her justice. It was a sad fate, to rationalize such evil for the sake of validation. And there were many here this night who were condemned to such a fate. Many more than there were he and his fellow swordslingers. But the Paladin regarded the Mistress having reclaimed his composure and bringing himself front and center against their enemy. Traecon's defiant words seemed to have motivated him. And then it began...

Heike lashed out fervently. Her first target, Tylri, anticipated the attack and moved quickly to avoid her. Nyasha was less fortunate, and recieved the full brunt of Heike's fury. Her existence was over in moments, all ten claws finding firm purchase with her skull and tearing it asunder.

Erën moved swiftly, traveling quickly across the pool up onto the stone floor. He leapt up and over Heike, who had just pounced upon Nyasha. He flew over her, and as his feet came down he lunged forward and swung his sword at Tylri. His speed proved adequete, and the vampire was cloven in two, falling to the floor and withering into a husk. He whirled around for the other, who had been feasting.

Gone.

He whirled around again, brandishing his sword...

It had been quite some time since she had woken to such excitement. The world was far more timid in these recent ages than it had been in the past. But now, things were starting to feel a bit more familiar.

Waging these little wars, the light against the dark.

And too, the dark, divided against itself.

But also too, sometimes, was the light.

Elijah had spared little pleasantry, as was to be expected. But, as stunning and brilliant as his attack was, it would not find its mark, not this time. For as quickly as he attacked, she had descended into a dark mist and parted far and wide, returning only after the beam hsd ceased. A direct confrontation with his holy magic, she would undoubtably suffer from.

Her form reappeared, a smile spreading wide across her lips. And she started forward, her hand raising up and a red aura taking shape in it. Then, Traecon's blast of heated energy struck her, and gave her pause. She stepped back, her head turned aside and her arm back to steady herself, and the redness in her hand dispersed.

Then, with anger and malice she turned back. Her jaw split open, and great mandibles were made. Terrible teeth grew out, and a long burning tongue hung low. Her eyes burned black, and her hair became as serpents that spewed a dark fog. Her legs vanished, replaced by a burning black plume, and her arms grew long with great claws replacing her fingers.

Both her arms raised up, the red aura flashing and reaching far, and the liquid of the silver pool began to rise up into the shape of a pillar, and it twisted and shot out at Traecon in response to his irritating assault. Then as an immediate follow up, she stretched her hand toward Elijah, and from her hand the black mist poured out, forming into the shape of a great spear, stretching toward him with a fatal intent.

Erën was assaulted by another vampire, who he clashed with briefly before dispatching with a great surge of electrical power, funneled through his imbedded sword. His eyes caught sight of the Mistress' momentary transformation.

Her true form, it would seem.

Such a twisted creature.

He saw from his vantage point several other attackers flanking around to follow up their master's attacks. But he was in no position to assist in that regard. Instead, he prepared to attack the source.

But as he readied himself, in the shadows behind him, Nyrial once again appeared.

Heike Eisen | Elijah Khalo Celasaer | Traecon Maxwell​

 

[Heike Eisen]

Unlike her, you will not live to see the night fall once again.

Even as Heike missed swiping Tylri (regrettable, but she would have vengeance exacted from her soon enough) and pounced upon Nyasha, she heard Traecon speak these words. A ghostly feeling of warmth, false in the stillness of her heart and coldness of her blood yet true to the heart which transcended the mere corporeal, swelled within her. It was good to know that he, this stranger yet fellow warrior, thought of her as an ally and had openly said as much. Of the tall knight Heike was mostly--but not entirely--certain, and of the elf Heike was wholly unsure.

Which presented a terrible conundrum.

After Heike's claws found purchase in Nyasha's skull and Heike exerted herself and blood burned in her arms and her claws gained the strength to puncture through and crush bone, Heike stood. Nyasha's blood dripped gratuitously from her hands, tiny patters of it as it fell in steady drops to the floor. The elf had jumped over her while she was upon Nyasha, cleaved through Tylri (soon enough indeed), and had turned to face the Mistress--the transformed and twisted Mistress.

There were other vampires, other minions of the fiendish Mistress, about in the chamber. But one--Nyrial--was behind the elf. Emerging.

Heike's eyes went wide. Wide with both rage and worry. For she could assist the elf, but the angle was such that it would appear at first that Heike was lunging straight for him, not for Nyrial, slinking forward unseen from the shadows behind him.

Damn! Curse her affliction. If it were not so, if it were manifestly clear that Heike was on his side and meant him no harm, then this would have been of no concern at all. But the pallor of her skin, her fangs, her claws and her yellow eyes--all put her by default to many on the side of the abhorrent monsters of the night.

She could shout to him. Warn him. And if such a warning went unheeded? If there was a misunderstanding? A delay in action?

Heike had a split-second to make her decision. And she made it.

She turned her feet and crouched and exerted her legs for a powerful lunge. Sailing through the air ostensibly toward Erën, her trajectory so close that her arm or the tail of her coat might brush against him. It was to Heike a total and willing disregard for her own safety--Erën could just as easily catch her with his sword as Traecon had caught that one vampire with his.

Regardless, Heike's intent was to lunge at Nyrial. Slash at her once in range, and to keep slashing until her claws found Nyrial's vile flesh or the until she forced Nyrial to retreat.

Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Traecon Maxwell Elijah Khalo Celasaer

 

[Elijah Khalo Celasaer]

His attack missed, but it lined up the vampire for the fire attack from the other warrior which spoiled the spell she was preparing to cast but didn't seem to do much else... But she did undergo a grotesque transformation, twisting into a foul chimera of monstrous features.
It was her turn to retaliate with her powerful magic.

Elijah was drained by his attack, though not beaten he lacked the strength to move very quickly. He was fairly tempted to allow himself to be stabbed by the shadowy spear; it was a thought that had a sobering effect on his mind and in the brief moment before the spear reached him he realized that he had been operating purely on emotion up to this point. His anger, regret, doubt, fear, all of them ruled his actions and blinded him to himself and what he was capable of.

The shadowy spear pierced straight through his body and stabbed into the floor with the shaft pinning him in place.
But the spear had passed through without resistance, not from armor, muscle or bone. There was a swirl of mist where the shaft of the spear entered and exited his body, and when he stepped to the side the shaft dragged through him as if he were made of air, for now he was indeed made of fog.
His image shifted and then disintegrated as he moved quickly back before reforming in a semi-solid state in the air with a good view of the underground area and all of their enemies.

Vampires practically swarmed the area, some moved to protect their mistress, others moved to attack the invaders from nearly every angle. He floated above where the pool used to be before the vampire mistress summoned it to attack, the warrior with the fire sword faced off with the mistress, and the other paladin fought vampires beside their vampire ally.

It only took him a moment to see their issue. They were split up for one, and ill suited for the type of fighting they were engaged in.
All were powerful and could possibly manage, but they needed a better plan. He regretted that he was probably the cause of their disorganized assault, but he could fix this.

His voice rang out to his companions in this dismal place, the force of certainty in his voice as he called out his plan.
"Fire sword, please heed my words! Disengage and aid me in holding back the hordes. Focus on large area attacks with your flames, only give ground when sorely pressed.
Paladin and vampire girl, engage the mistress if you're able, we will cover you while you deal with her!"
It was all the orders he could think of at the moment, he wished he took time to learn their names. But this would optimize their apparent strengths. Him and the man with the flaming sword were better equipped to deal with large numbers of enemies, while the vampire and elvish paladin were better suited for individual combat.
He just hoped they would see the logic as well and heed his suggestions.

His body solidified and he dropped to the floor with a heavy impact with his sword raised. In a burst of mist and clouds he appeared beside the allied vampire and as she attacked one behind the elf, he guarded her flank and brought his sword to bear as new vampires approached to attack. He blinded the group with a light spell before he began to lay into them with his holy blade.

 

[Traecon Maxwell]

He grinned as the true form of this... vermin showed itself. As ugly as it appeared, and he was ready with more biting words on his tongue. Well... they never had the chance to leave his mouth in bursts of snark - he was busy about to react to the vampiress's counterattac - Fast!

He could only use the implement of force he had used to garner her attention in the first place, using it as a shield between that damnable pillar and himself. He hadn't heard of abilities like metallurgy from such bloodsuckers, but he could only blame himself for that gap in knowledge. He was facing a literal alpha of sorts to these fiends. He should have expected some tricks he hadn't seen. As it stood now.

"Grk!"

He was sent back towards the wall, boots screeching unholy hell upon the stone earth as he fought back with all his human strength, pushing against that pillar. He screeched to a steady halt, the silvery metal lodged into the very center of the gauntlet. And it wouldn't hold long - he could feel bits and pieces of the metal giving away at the seams. If he kept resisting, his armor would give in first.

"Verdamm, sonuva!"

With a grunt and more strength than probably required, Traecon shifted his center to the right, deflecting the pillar to let it slam against the wall behind him. He took a glance behind - that was nasty. If that was his body, his organs would be pureed and crushed into gravy. The crater was at least a foot deep, minimum. And that came at a cost. Bits and pieces of his left arm-piece were coming apart at the seams. He wouldn't be able to use it any longer.

And then came the fodder. More kindling for the fire within his sword. They surrounded him, fangs bared, some even jeering at his form, at the crumbling armament around his left fist. They taunted with hisses and pointed stares, all directed at his gauntlet. He scoffed inwardly. Their funerals, if there was even anything left of them after he was through.

Sword still in his right, he slowly beckoned them forth, steel eyes glaring right back. They wanted prey? This one would fight back.

And he didn't have to wait at all. Some were impatient for food, it seemed. But still, telegraphed movements? These were all reliant on their speed and power, thinking it enough to overwhelm most warriors and fighters. Fat load of bull, that. The unfortunate bugger leapt in a blur, claws extended and fangs bared. Did these not even notice the previous idiot who tried the exact same approach?

"Like I needed this anyway."

He didn't even put his back into the left hook, the vampire's momentum carrying it headfirst into the steel knuckles, and through it, the head liquefying into bone dust as whatever held the gauntlet together failed. It simply shattered, coming apart. Whatever power had been stored in there he had used against that mistress of vampires. His hand was freed, revealing yet more armor, yet more slender and more in line with the rest of his set.

"So you've managed to break one of my weapons."

His voice was droll, unimpressed. Of course he was. Giving up a life to break one insignificant piece of armor? They would need to bring a whole battalion of these critters to have a chance of killing him then. Then he heard the paladin call him out. Fire sword? He wouldn't begrudge the slight error. He could harness heat, not outright perform pyromancy. He could see that... elf, and the rogue vampire fight against the mistress's direct underlings, opposed to these... weaklings.

Suppose he could entertain himself before going for the kill. Let the elf and the rogue handle the rest. He would assist them when these filth were seared away. His hands settled on the blade in a longsword stance. Quite at odds with his own body, given its size, but he wasn't about to let that stop him. No. Not quite.

He blurred, the sword's runes flashing crimson for an instant. And the group that had surrounded him dissipated, faces and skulls cleft in half by his circular swing. The blade slowed to a stop as its edge dug into the hard stone. It still sizzled with heat, and Traecon gestured with a free left hand to yet more vampires approaching, these more cautious than the last. A pity, as they would all die nonetheless.

"Come then, or I shall go to you."

And onward he marched, into the horde of undead. They could not even halt his momentum, as he carved through swathes of them with every swing.

Elijah Khalo Celasaer Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Heike Eisen

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Erën was taken by the sight of the Mistress as she was now. Her image had grown into something that he himself was not familiar with, but something in him... deeper that that, something within the collective conciousness of the Soul Forge, was disturbed. She resembled now another creature, one he himself could not picture, but the familiarity he felt was troublesome.

And in the pause he was given, he was caught off guard.

Heike lunged, and at first he could not percieve her true intent.

Had it not been for the sudden feeling behind him would his sword have stretched out to impale her. Instead he stepped forward and whirled around abruptly, making way for Heike to pass. But all determination and strength washed from his face when he beheld clearly who is was who had led them all here.

The resemblence was unmistakable. There was no feature he did not recognize. And in his heart, he knew.

Elliasandre.

His daughter. ​

 

[Nyrial]

Nyrial was indeed not her true name, given to her by her parents. It had been given to her after the Change had taken place, and she had been made into something more than she once was. More than Elliasandre. But she still had memories of those times. Reminders.

Behind them, Sharyrdaes burned. Around them, the forest became twisted and pained before their very eyes. And before them, the darkness crept forward, blanketing their path in shadow.

She was terrified.

She cast her eyes back, and a great flash could be seen. The Celestial Tower, looming high over the city, was split and began to fall.

She shrieked, and whimpered, and comforting arms came around her, lifting her from her feet and with increased haste carried her farther from the decimation that was taking place.

And she felt a little safer. Anur'Ephal was powerful, and had long been a friend of her father's. ​

Seeing her father like this had been foretold. That one day they would once again meet. What would come next, was never revealed to her. But she knew it would all be for the glory of the Mistress, in whatever event.

She'd moved to lash out at him, as was her Mistress' unspoken command. No matter who or what she ordered her to slay, Nyrial would obey. Even against him. But just as she moved to attack, Heike also lunged for her. Erën moved out of her reach, and she was forced to clash with her own kind. She twisted her body out of the first swung claw, and ducked under the next, and indeed retreated - quickly. As was also her Mistress' will.

For as quickly as Heike had lunged, as Erën had whirled himself around...

The Mistress was momentarily alleviated from needing to deal with Traecon and Elijah following her assault, thanks to her devoted minions - who were however being decimated by the two. Nevertheless, it allowed her attention to turn toward one of her more precious: Nyrial, brought to her by the Fell Elf, Anur. There was something in her blood which had brought her great strength, and she knew that this other one too, could likewise do this.

Dark magic, twisted machinations of both she and Anur, had made it so.

But first, he would need to be rid of his bonds.

She lashed out with black magic, striking out in the form of red lightning which encircled Erën, and ensnared him.

He was caught unaware, striken by the sight of his long lost and now turned daughter. How wonderfully terrible.

And as her magic took hold, even lifting Erën from the ground from his place, her minions(now very few) unleashed a final collaborated attack on Traecon and Elijah, attempting to surround them and overwhelm them from all sides...

... but she herself, was quite focused.

Severing a collective conciousness was no simple task.

Nyrial had backed away, out of Heike's reach lest she advance upon her again. But, she did not look upon her sister who was set against her. Instead, her eyes looked past, and there was a pain in them.

Pain as she watched as Erën was enveloped in the Mistress' black magic. Pain as she heard his anguished cries as it constricted around him, and pulled at his spirit.

Pain as she watched what was becoming of who used to be... who still was her father.

Heike Eisen | Elijah Khalo Celasaer |Traecon Maxwell​

 

[Heike Eisen]

Damn! Missed!

But Nyrial was made to retreat, and Erën had not lashed out at Heike as she feared he might. Her effort had not gone well, but it had not gone poorly either.

And as she was preparing to once again close the gap between herself and Nyrial, she heard the words of the shining knight. So focused on the deadly task at hand was she that him calling her vampire girl did not bother her in the manner that it otherwise would have. A quick glance over to Elijah and Traecon at the other side of the chamber revealed that they were indeed well engaged in the mire of fighting the Mistress's legion of foul underlings.

Heike bared snarling teeth at Nyrial. As much as she wanted to finish what she started, Elijah's words had undeniable merit. She and the Elf ought to engage the Mistress while this slim chance existed--

And it was then that the Elf was ensnared by the Mistress's magic, constricting tethers of red lightning that levitated him off of his feet. Now, even more than before, Elijah's strategy rang sound and true. And it was left to Heike to make an attempt at the Mistress. Distract her, wound her, or should she strike decisively, kill her.

So Heike turned her back to Nyrial. Exerted herself and leaped high. Not directly at the Mistress, no. Far off to the Mistress's left, toward the very walls of the chamber. Heike swung around in mid-air and her feet touched the wall and she again exerted herself and springboarded off of the wall at the shallowest of angles, sailing through the air so close to the wall that her claws of her nearside hand scraped against the stone. Once well behind the Mistress, a final push off of the wall to launch herself in a beeline toward the Mistress's back.

Unorthodox, yes. Costing quite a large amount of blood to so blatantly defy gravity and shift her momentum, yes. But she did not want to come flying at the Mistress straight on from the front. Adding in an element of unpredictability could go far, especially if the Mistress was focused intently on her magic and on the Elf.

Heike streaked down from the high wall at the Mistress from behind. Claws arched back during her flight and ready for a plunge into the back of the vampire's neck. Seeking, perhaps, to tear through the flesh and reach the spine.

Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Traecon Maxwell Elijah Khalo Celasaer

 

[Traecon Maxwell]

They fell like paper. He would have pitied them, had they not been what they were. The runes of his weapon burned an even fiercer red as he continued to fight, harnessing the heat from his own body, from the friction generated as he swung the blade in various forms. The metal itself seemed to ripple as the sheer heat warped the air around it. Every wound was cauterized the moment it struck, almost instantly fatal as every strike pierced not just at flesh, but into the mind.

A weapon designed to kill man and spirit alike, and what were these vampires, these bloodsuckers whom tread the in-between? Shades of darkness in human form, relying on the lifeforce of other living beings to function in the physical world. He was practically trained to fight such creatures.

Stoking his inner flame, he let the blade drink in his rage as he swept aside his foes like wheat in a field. Ever hotter it blazed, an invisible flame that incinerated the weaklings that touched it. He was tempted to call out to their mistress to come face him personally, partly to actually give himself a challenge, and another to draw her attention away from - Bloody hell.

He revised his statement. No battalion was needed to take him down, since these minions went for broke and simply rushed him down in a seemingly last-ditch effort to keep him from interfering. He hadn't the energy to muster another sweeping strike, and could only rely on his armor for protection as he was literally buried beneath a tide of fang and claw. The change in tactics was quite sudden, and Traecon was, for all his skill, still human. No amount of experience could possibly help him predict the remaining dozen or so lunge simultaneously from all directions.

He shifted his stance to kill at least four of his attackers at once -

Clang!

A glancing strike from an enemy behind him.

Not enough to even scratch the armor, but it dislodged the weapon from his hand, sinking to half its length in the ground. The ghoul then latched onto his face with a vicelike grip, viciously gnawing and clawing to draw his attention.

Whatever biting curse was held in his throat as he struggled against the strength of a dozen ghouls. Had these minions had sense, he would be torn limb from limb. At least he had somewhat intimidated them into thinking he was more than man, as they focused on holding him down instead. His legs and torso were pinned, his arms busy wrestling against three that were going for his face.

Fangs snapped inches from his face, and he grimaced as black tar dripped onto the facemask beneath the hood. Disgusting. They were famished, this he could see. But any attempts to dislodge himself were quite against him as he found himself losing balance. The hilt was bloody inches away from his own arms as he stumbled about. Quite a sight, seeing a man literally covered in living corpses.

"Grrrr!"

He twisted and jerked in all directions, his body feeling on fire as it aches with his efforts. He could not jump, or even try to free himself. He had to maintain the illusion he was still at full strength, when already it was dwindling. The sword was still inches away, if he could just -

Oh. The thought came to him a moment later.

It was worth a shot. The blade's edge sufficed, after all.

His body could curse at him all it wanted, but only after this debacle was over. With another savage jerk that had his innards threatening to come up his throat, his body fell forward, losing its balance as the clump of vampires, too occupied with Traecon to notice, fell with him.

Right onto the blade's waiting, fiery edge.

Shink!

Beneath the mask, Traecon's grin widened in proportion to the dread rising up in the ghouls' faces, as three of the minions turned to ash, one of them having occupied Traecon's right arm. Before the swordsman's back touched the ground, the free hand snapped out to grasp the blade. The skull burned the slightest bit brighter, as Traecon fed it his body heat, the exhaustion giving way to newfound strength, mustered with willpower and desire of retribution.

Invigorated, his body no longer sending him complaints, Traecon tensed with all his might.

The ghouls still on him felt the human, no, the thing's muscles beneath their claws pulse and flex. As if the monster beneath them had just started to wake up.

"My turn."

Eight were still on him, One on his other arm, three on his back, torso, and head. The remaining four had wrapped themselves around his legs.

So long as he held his sword, they were already dead.

In a macabre display of skinning more at home in a butcher's slaughterhouse, the ghouls were pried off his body as he threw himself against the planted blade, yanking with enough strength to lift his own body up (Thank goodness their unnatural strength did not affect their body weight, though a dozen was still heavy as hell) and shear off the two on his back and other arm.

The rest... well, they tried.

He dusted off the remaining ashes as he refocused on the Mistress, now having snared the Elf in her clutches. But even more concerning was the female vampire before the captured elf seemingly... hesitating? There was a fresh kill - nevermind. Though not as fast as before, he still crossed the gap in seconds, the sword's runes burning orange. An upward slash to create distance between this vampiress and the elf.

"Back off, blood-corpse!"

Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Elijah Khalo Celasaer Heike Eisen

 

[Elijah Khalo Celasaer]

Elijah was hard pressed as well. Once Traecon went down he had no one to cover for and no one to cover for him, he attempted to go to his aid but he was quickly cut off.
Vampires surrounded him and danced around his sweeping attacks, as soon as his back was turned a vampire would rush in to strike and he would be forced to whirl around and defend himself.
One vampire rushed forward in a feint but couldn't get back fast enough before he was run through by the holy blade, but before the monster turned to dust he lashed out with his claws and tore through his armor on his exposed side.

Elijah hissed in pain but soon he was back on the defensive, turning this way and that to keep the vampires from getting around him. Another vampire rushed him and he made a slash which the vampire ducked under and came up on the other side, again slashing in the same spot where blood now gushed.
The vampire didn't escape as Elijah stabbed it through the back, but it smiled before it turned to dust.

Elijah and Traecon were being overwhelmed and the mistress wasn't dead yet. They needed and equalizer, and it was fortunate that he had such a thing.
He reached out his hand and an obscuring fog billowed out and rapidly began to cover them, the radius didn't reach the mistress, but the mass of combatants were obscured.
Moving about the fog like a huge phantom Elijah finally began picking off the vampires one by one and was even able to get a few off of Traecon.
"Let's end this."

 

[Nyrial]

She couldn't believe what was happening. She thought she'd be ready for this. She thought she'd be ready for anything. She had no idea... Feelings of utter regret washed over her as distant memories from the past came to her.

She had been destined for a much different life, she'd once thought.

She flinched when Heike leapt forth and away from her, and there was a look of surprise pasted plainly on her features. She could not help but wonder why Heike was so fervently eager to prove herself different, to deny what she had become - to deny the sisterhood they had offered to her.

She began to wonder, why... didn't I?

She looked again to the Mistress, and a change was in her eyes. The deception began to break - and she remembered who she was supposed to have been. But... it was too late.

As Traecon's sword plunged toward it's mark, she unleashed one final attack...

​

Her hold upon the elf was strong, and she could feel that her dark magic was working well to complete the task. It was all part of the plan. The plan set in motion to save all she and all even these wretched fools knew from total obliteration. A ticket, to His end.

Even as her minions were turned to ash around her she persisted... until...

Heike...

...how... sad.
​

As the misled vampiress took to rounding about and attacking her, the Mistress afforded enough attention to her. Her free arm reached up, and a well of blackness grew in her palm.

She was just about to unleash her attack when she was struck with a blast of her own magic!

In fury and anguish she reared her twisted head toward Nyrial and screamed a gutteral and fearful cry - before watching Traecon's sword cleave into her, greviously and fatally. And in the shock of the moment, she froze - well enough distracted for Heike's claws to pierce her.

In that moment, it was as though time itself stopped.

A gasp, both loud and quiet, echoed throughout the hall.

Heike's claws raked deep into the back of her neck.

Erën was dropped, left in a smoking heap.

​

Nyrial let out a shrill cry as Traecon's sword struck her, and with what strength remained she pulled away from him and lept back. Several feet away, she stopped and dropped to her knee, grasping her wound. She could feel it... seething in her... and with no chance of besting any of them...

This was likely to be her end.

So be it... so long as...

 

[Traecon Maxwell]

What in the hell was going on?

In the midst of his hasty dash, he thought even that was too late, as he saw the dark tendrils of magic fire from his targeted vampire... to her mistress? But he could not ponder on it, for instinct drove his sword into an slash that carved a tear across the ground in a rising uppercut. But his foe, who had turned against her own master, did not see, perhaps too concentrated on her now conflicted loyalty to notice.

All the more fatal for her, as the blade struck true.

Traecon's slash, meant to simply create distance, had drawn blood. The crimson liquid boiled into thin air as the weapon's runes were lit ablaze. He felt like burning up, literally, as heat circulated from his weapon into his body. As much as he wanted to follow up and finish her off, he would suffocate from the heat built in return. Harshly, he tore off the facemask with a free hand, exhaling a plume of air so hot it misted in the room. It alleviated the heat some, but he still felt like he was being boiled alive.

It had taken near everything to make the distance with a speed and strength like that - ordinarily he could have made a similar dash with more control and less strength, but in his haste had overextended himself. A blow might have been landed, but the heat he had mustered in turn had almost ravaged his own body.

His skin seemed to numb, but he could feel the blood in his body start to bubble. Like a geyser about to burst, only that he was said geyser. Drawing in more air, he let loose more plumes of mist, like a steam-powered engine. His mind also tried to force his body to release said heat, expel it. All the while he kept an eye on this wounded monster.

"Disperse the heat, choke the inner fire. Breathe damn it!'

"Haa..."

A rumbling growl as he inhaled deep breaths, exhaling more hot air as he regulated the body heat to more fitting temperatures. He stood guard over the fallen elf, sword still out and in a stance as he breathed out more mist. Only his eyes could be seen, and even they were nothing but pale, open circles peering from a shadowed, hunched-over beastly visage. His sword lay on his shoulder, nor himself or the armor affected by the sword's searing heat.

With only the crimson runes giving light from Nyrial's view, all the vampire would see was something akin to a demon, much like she was. His other hand was occupied with the facemask, but that did not mean he was helpless, not when the vampire had suffered wounds of her own.

He did not look behind to the fate of the Mistress, of that Alpha of this little coven. He had heard a scream, a gasp. But he suffered no retaliation. The rogue vampiress had found her mark. Breathing in deep once more, he affixed the faceguard back on his face, and breathed.

A thinner, but longer stream of mist hissed from clenched teeth, as he rose to his full height, no less menacing than he was before. He felt capable enough to fend off any desperate assault now, rolling his shoulders about to test their strength. They burned at the effort, with a heated energy that was more tempered than before. Ready to strike at an instant.

If this vampire had any last words however, he would oblige it. He would at least hear out her reasons for a sudden betrayal.

 

[Heike Eisen]

It had been dangerous wishful thinking. A lapse in vigilance that Herr Dieter Roth would have shaken his head at. For all the armor of her morality and just cause and noble intent, there still existed points of weakness. And she had nearly fallen. Fallen like Tylri, Nyasha, Ellisandre. Perilously close to this. Far too close. But ultimately she did not let her own personal feelings, own desires and yearnings, conquer her virtue.

And now Heike ended it. Sank her claws deep into the back of the Mistress's neck. And Heike did not stop clawing at the Mistress, even if the Mistress had fallen under the ensuing barrage of slashes. She kept swiping at the Mistress's body, eventually settling on an attempt to decapitate her foe. With a vampire possessed of such power, Heike did not wish to squander her chance at slaying the creature. She wanted to make damn sure the task was done.

During this savaging, an awareness: that the Mistress had been struck by magic akin to her own during Heike's descent. A pause in her savaging of the Mistress. Heike got a quick glance and appraisal of the situation, her de facto allies and those vampiric minions still alive. Erën had been released from the Mistress's hold, Elijah had disappeared in a cloud of fog, and Traecon had landed a wounding slash on Nyrial. Good, on that latter observation. Traecon, exhausted by fiery arcane fatigue of a sort, was nevertheless primed to deliver his own killing blow.

Excellent. Whatever internal strife had caused Nyrial to turn on the Mistress provided to Heike and Traecon an advantage to be capitalized on. Now both Nyrial and the Mistress could be slain as the monsters they were, and Gorinsbin could be rid of this infestation once and for all.

A look of wordless approval as she regarded Traecon in that small moment.

Then Heike went back to her grim task of attempting decapitation of the Mistress. Ensuring--hopefully--that she would perish.

Traecon Maxwell Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Elijah Khalo Celasaer

 

[Elijah Khalo Celasaer]

Elijah could no longer see what was happening to the mistress or to anyone outside the boundaries of the fog, as for those within the fog he could find with ease, watching and feeling the disturbances in the cloud created by movement which allowed him to home in on the Vampires and pick them off.

A group of them picked a direction and decided to run for it, in an instant he cut down two of them but three others escaped and found themselves witnessing their mistress under attack. Naturally they immediately moved to save her.

The Vampires were being whittled down to only a few resistant members, and these figured out a way to counter Elijah in the fog, they realized that he was still bleeding from various wounds and so were able to track him by scent.
When his sword came swinging at them from the mist they were able to deflect the attacks with their own weapons.
When the fog finally cleared twenty vampires still remained, and Elijah was down on one knee, panting from exhaustion and pale from blood loss.

No prayers reverberated around the room this time, the time of prayers and gods had passed. The tired giant just stared defiantly at his enemy as they slowly surrounded him.
A female vampire, beautiful save for her burning red eyes and extended fangs protruding from behind her black painted lips, approached him.
"Don't struggle anymore, paladin of the gods... You've fought well, you've fought bravely, now it's time to rest..."
It was a mistake to notice those eyes, because now he couldn't look away, now they filled his mind.
She closed the distance between them and cautiously placed her hands on his shoulders, moving her face close to his.
"Victory is at hand, you've fulfilled your oaths, the mission comes to an end... Rest now, rest with me and just forget..."
She slid her hands around him to embrace him, her face gently nuzzled in his neck. His sword clattered to the stone floor.
His eyes grew heavy and his head nodded forward.
"S-stop..."
She went on.
"Rest with me, embrace me my love, sleep in my protection and I will take away your pain."

Spoiler

This new vampire is gonna be a new character I'm making. Don't kill her!