Land of Triton IC (Drago + Grif of Hearts)

[Darkdrago666]

The night descended upon Elvenwood, the forest becoming a sight of beauty, even with the darkness, turning the relatively peaceful looking trees, and stumps, much more menacing, and frightening than normal. Glowflies became more active, flying around the thick forest, a sort of strange, ghostly essence crept within the darkness, lighting what otherwise would be darkened corners into a blue glow. Within the forest, however, lay a dark, sinister ruin, known simply as the "Mansion of The Damned" a well known, and often avoided site in which the "Valentus Clan" lived, a Vampire Clan, that has aligned itself to Victus, "He Who Walks The Night", a Dark Lord, seeking chaos, and destruction to the mortal races, offering the Undead, and Vampires a place in his dark vision of despair.

"Bring the Fiend Slayer, and the Beast Man!" the Clan Lord roared across the large mass of thirty vampires that rallied with their leader, to judge Jarren and Yan Zhe. The Lord himself was known as Vincent Valentus, or "Vincent the Vile" known for his often bloodthirsty appetite, and his means of feeding as he would actually consume the flesh of humans or elves, along with the blood.

The elite of the clan dragged both Yan Zhe and Jarren, as they were bound rope upon their hands, their weapons still in their possession. "Aaah, Jarren, how I've hungered for this chance to finally meet you!...you killed my son, and for that I'll make you suffer longer" Jarren smirked. "Would like to know that I sliced him in half?...you so called "Creatures of The Night" are very fragile...especially against one such as I" Vincent was angered. "you dare mock my pain?...I'll enjoy making you my servant...you won't die like this wretched beast!..you'll become my living, breath sac of human meat so that I can feed off you until you rot...I hear you regenerate nearly as well as me" Yan Zhe was a little worried that Jarren was enjoying this too much. " you know angering the vampire lord who controls about twenty, thirty vampires is probably not the kind of choice that will guarantee our survival. " Jarren turned to his friend. "I've placed traps around here during the day, I've got a plan worked with Ros...She'll be here...trust us Yan" Jarren reassured his bound friend. "if we survive, you owe me at least two nights in a brothel." Jarren laughed. "noted". Both Yan Zhe and Jarren watched on, the vampires all cheering, shouting to feed upon them right now as punishment for their insubordination against their god, Victus, Lord of The Damned, father to all Vampires.

"Our lord, and father Victus will indeed smile fortune upon us, my brethren!...these mortal sacks of flesh have tried to sabotage our master's plans for paradise, even though it's futile, paradise will come ever so more closer, as we feed upon these worms! VAE VICTUS!" as Vincent shouted the last words, in unison, his clan repeated the phrase, Vincent stood proud, of his clan and Brethren. Their time was near, and paradise would come close for them, as they lead an army united by Vampires, Undead, and traitors against the current races, first elves, all until humans are last to feel their wrath. This night, however was not going to end in their favor, for Jarren had laid down traps, and explosives around the mansion, to which Jarren's apprentice, nicknamed "Ros" would start the ambush.

"Any last words, Filth?" Vincent lifted Jarren up, not noticing the binds were cut from Jarren's hand. "now that you mentioned it" with speed Jarren broke the cut rope from his hands, breaking free from Vincent's grip. Jarren had managed to get Vincent as a hostage, placing a small blade near his heart, long enough to kill him. " NOW!" shouted Jarren, hoping Ros would hear it in time.

[Grif of Hearts]

Vincent Valentus his name was, if memory served Ros well. She had always had a problem remembering the names of those she didn't care much for, and this man received no special treatment. She did remember that he was no longer mortal however, inflicted with the curse commonly known as vampirism, although it went by several names across the continent. She also knew quite well that the world would be much better off if he were to suddenly find himself without a head. While such a brash and aggressive attack was rarely something that Ros would do, this time was an exception, and she was spending this time preparing herself for the assault. It was always an exception when someone had kidnapped friends of yours, and Ros looked as if she was preparing to go to war over this, examining weapons and fixing up what armour she had.

Her armour had been crafted out of hand picked pieces of hide, leather and fur from beasts that she had hunted herself over the years, and the suit of skin lay upon the ground as if discarded. It was not done without purpose however, as the buckles were undone and strings kept loose, making it easy to slip on at a moments notice. All she'd have to do would be pull it on and tighten a few straps. Some thread and fur lay scattered around it where Ros had been making repairs and alterations, and to anyone but the elf herself it might have been difficult to tell the pile of litter and the piece of armour apart, both of which looking torn and broken. Ros took great pride in her armour however, and any comments saying otherwise would likely result in a broken nose. A small sword within its sheathe of leather was left resting up against a tree, the blade curved sharply half way down, and Ros herself was sat down atop a fallen log. A construct of wood and steel rested in her arms, the string pulled back and the bolt loaded. Although Ros had been using the same weapon for years now, she still felt it necessary to check the weight and balance. She was checking everything ruthlessly, searching for any kind of imperfection. This wasn't a regular hunt where one mistake could be made up for with a lucky shot. A mistake meant she was dead, and likely the three others too, that was if Yan and Vincent hadn't already become prey. Vampires were tough, even if Ros' experience with them was limited.

Across the other side of the forest clearing, slumped up against a sturdy tree, was a stout figure. He looked dizzt and struggling to stand, barely able to hold up his own weight. “C'maaaan, Roshh!” he yelled, his voice slurred and broken. A glass bottle was held in his hand, filled half way with a vibrant golden liquid, and several other similar bottles littered the floor around him, which explained why the man seemed to have so much trouble standing up straight. Usually it would take a single pint of dwarven ale to knock a human off of his feet, but Togrin was no human. Dwarves were particularly resistant to intoxication, and only the strongest ale will do. “La- laghten up fer once! 'Ave shum booze!” He took out a fresh bottle and threw the thing at full force towards Ros, although it fell short and hit the ground, cracking the glass but not shattering it.

Ros was tempted to fire a bolt through the man's thick skull and leave it at that just so she would have to put up with his drunken slurring, but she knew she wouldn't be able to pull of this rescue attempt on her own. Togrin was a drunkard and a fool, but he was strong and tough, and he seemed to be a better fighter drunk than he was sober. Ros found it best not to humour the dwarf though, and continued with her work.

“Fane, faaaaane! Ah'll shtop wid' all da' drinkin' if ye' jush' hurreh' up! Thell 'ave been made bat food ba' now.” Togrin took another gulp of his ale leaving an inch or two of liquid left in the flask. He stumbled over, the thick but finely crafted dwarven plate metal he wore rattling with every step. “Cem'an. Less' jus' go in der', knock aht a few a' der bloody pointed teeff an' kick shum arse. It'll be fun.” He held his hand out, holding the bottle of ale out for Ros to take. It'd help her relax, even if Togrin's drunken state didn't comprehend the idea. He just wanted another drinking buddy.

While Ros' face remained expressionless for a moment, it was not long before she placed the crossbow in her arms onto the floor and took the glass with one of her spare hands, swallowing what was left in a single gulp. A grin burst out across Togrin's face, although it was met with only a faint smile from Ros, although it was more than what he would usually get. “Ah fink' ish 'bout time we showed 'dem Victush-whateversh 'dat when peopulsh take ar' people, dey get... Uh... Ah, who really caresh 'baut a speech? Let's just go give 'em all sam' new scars.”

“Fine, let's get to it. I've got a nice silver bolt with Valentus' name on it,” she replied, clambering up to her feet. To war, it seemed.

When Jarren shouted for Ros and Togrin to begin their ambush of the ruined manson, hoping to hear the sounds of explosions and the screams of vampires as their heads were cut off, they were not met with the response that they had been expecting. A faint music wafted through the ruins, played by some kind of wind instrument. A pipe by the sound of it, although Jarren and Yan Zhe would have likely recognised it as a harmonica. One they would have heard frequently since meeting Togrin. It was only a few notes and the tune was particularly slow and basic, but it was enough to draw the attention of those within the ruins. Some of the vampires turned their heads, wondering where the noise was coming from, although the echoes that bounced off of the walls of the mansion made that extremely difficult. There was a rumble and a sizzle, and the faint smell of burning wafted into the room. Ros wasn't even sure if vampires could smell any more, but their allies inside would have likely been able to. There was a crack and a rumble, and then an ear-splitting screech as fire lit brimstone, filling the room with smoke, dust and rubble, not to mention a great big hole in the side of the mansion. Then there was the sound of a click and a low whistle, and a bolt of oak and silver lodged itself into Vincent's back, just below his neck.

Togrin, as impatient as he was, didn't waste a moment charging into the fray, now standing but clearly still drunk. With a hammer in hand and particularly well armoured, that would certainly not be a suicidal move though. He charged forwards on short but powerful legs, heading towards one of the vampires that stood beside Yan Zhe, and with one fell swoop he smashed the beast in the side of the face with his weapon. His figure partially obscured by the smoke, the creature of the night didn't see the blow coming, and it was knocked to the floor. Togrin pulled a knife from his belt and shoved it into the man's hands, both of which were still bound. He would have enough leeway to slice through the ropes with the knife however, and Togrin didn't want to waste time helping the man out of his binds when there were skulls to crack. “Get up! I don't wantsh ta' be babysittin' ye'!” he yelled to Yan, once again placing the harmonica to his bearded lips.

Taking a more subtle approach, Ros had pinned herself against the wall of the mansion, where she was far less noticeable. Loading a second bolt into her crossbow, she fired it off towards a group of three or four of these vampires, hoping it would hit one of them. People, if you could even call them that, were a smaller target than what she was used to, and while Ros would have easily been able to hit a single target in the clear, the dust that hung in the air made it just a little more difficult, and she didn't want to have to take any chances. It struck inches from the vampire's dead, blackened heart, but silver burnt the flesh of the undead no matter where it hit. It toppled backwards, injured but not dead, as Ros saw a hand reach up and pull the bolt from his chest. Ros hoped that Yan and Jarren wouldn't stay to fight and would instead run out the way that Ros and Togrin had gotten in. Thirty odd heavily armed vampires would not go down easily.

[Darkdrago666]

The music from an Harmonica, and the smell of burning in the air, Jarren smiled proudly, upon those two factors he had noticed, His apprentice, and the drunkard, but powerful warrior, Togrin had pulled off the ambush, an shattering, shockwave of a blast left the side of a mansion gaping with a hole, and of course, the well shot silver tipped bolt that had lodged itself into Vincent's back. "So what now, Vincent?...tell me where I can find the only blade strong enough to finish off Victus once and for all" Vincent laughed slowly. "you mean, the "Soulbane Blade"? that sword hasn't been found in almost three centuries since its disappearance...you'd be a fool to search for it now" Jarren was annoyed, and so he gripped the bolt, and pushed it in deeper, Vincent winced at the pain that shot through him, but he did not falter to it. "You think you can defeat the Dark one, Victus...He who walks the night?...you are doomed, and your companions too...hehehe" Vincent managed to break out of Jarren's hold of him, his body started to change, becoming more beast like. Firstly two wings sprouted forth from hi back, his face twisted, become more bat like, a frightening mix of human and bat, his fangs sharper He stood much taller than before. "Now, tremble!...witness the perfection of a true vampire!" Jarren quickly stood back up, drawing out his Sabre, ready to strike this beast down. At frightening speed, Vincent seemingly floated above the ground over to Jarren, his demonic claws ready to strike Jarren, but luck was on his, for Jarren had managed to narrowly duck the swooping attack from the Vincent. as Vincent turned around for a second swoop, Jarren moved to the right, with an upward slash from his blade, striking Vincent's wing.

Yan Zhe smirked, seeing the drunken dwarf unbind him from the ropes tied around his wrists. "Thank you my stoutly drunken dwarven friend, someday I might volumes on how to speak in your drunken tongue...your drunken-ness is truly an art form, even among your brethren" Yan Zhe commented on Togrin's drunken state. A vampire predictably tried to sneak up on Yan She, but he managed to turn around, and a took something from his sleeves, and with a quick blow, dust sprayed around the unexpected vampire. A deadly concoction of Silver and Garlic, painful, deadly, and slow, the vampire's anguished screams could be heard. "So Togrin, I bet I can kill me more vampires than you" he smirked, both his hands flared with flames. Two vampires eagerly charged right infront of him, but Yan Zhe sprayed flames upon them, burning them into ash, a natural and deadly weakness vampires have. "thats two already Togrin!" he shouted moving across the grounds with a beast like agility. Yan Zhe was a Wolf Beast Kin, bearing similar features, and a facial structure of a Wolf, aside from a snout, light fur, ears and a tail where definitely noticeable upon him, a scar covering his left. It was then he grew bored of his magic, and took out a cane, to which he had a hidden Katana like blade.

Yan Zhe was already surrounded by four more vampires. As moved in, it seemed like Yan Zhe had vanished, but from behind one of the vampires, a blade suddenly appeared, piercing his heart and visible from out of his chest. An eager vampire moved in closer, his broadsword raised in the air, but Yan Zhe had managed to stab him before he could do some damage. the other two, more reluctant than the ones laying own dead, were confused by this Beast-Man's surprising agility. Yan Zhe smiled, his left hand gathering swirling dance of flames, Yan Zhe casted the fire, into a ball flame, exploding upon impact, as it burned the remaining vampires alive.

[Grif of Hearts]

Loading another bolt into the weapon of wood and steel, having repeated this action more than enough times to do it without giving a single glance at the contraption itself, Ros turned her head towards Vincent and Jarren. She wished to double checking that the latter was fine dealing with one of the most powerful singular beings in the region mostly, although if the master vampire had left himself open for any kind of attack, Intha'ros would likely take it. He was a vampire after all, and probably the most powerful one in the country. He had, not five minutes ago, brushed of a strike that would have usually knocked even a regular vampire out completely, barely batting an eyelid at the strike. Jarren was a skilled combatant, as anyone who had faced him knew, but a vampire this ancient and skilled would be able to match and overpower any single mortal man. What stood before Jarren however, Ros was not entirely sure was Vincent. As a vampire, Vincent was once a concoction of traits that would have helped him blend in among humans, but what was left seemed barely even humanoid, let alone human. Ros had seen some of the dirtier sides of all kinds of the living and the dead, and vampires were included. She had seen them before with skin peeled back and flesh worn away. This though quite easily made her skin tingle. A horrific concoction of human and bat, with an elongated face adorned with huge fangs, razor sharp claws and a pair of horrific wings upon his back. Whether he was still vampire or something else entirely, Vincent was now more beast than man, and if he could do this, who knew what else the lord had waiting in surprise for the group.

Ros could quite safely say that she had expected something strange from the man. Vampires were strange and unpredictable creatures after all, using their strange tactics and powers to survive. This, however, she had not expected, nor did she even know about. She had heard tales of the strongest vampires being able to transform into their true states, releasing their inner beasts and allowing the disease to truly take hold of the body. Ros had always just pinned it off as old child stories, however. Obviously she had just never met a vampire powerful or skilled enough to truly reach this next state in their evolution. Although slightly shaken by the appearance of this creature, but more than willing to keep fighting, Ros turned back to those which charged towards her, their weapons in hand and fire in their blackened hearts. Her hand squeezed against the metal trigger and she fired the loaded bolt, luckily striking one of the vampires in the neck. A thick, sludge-like liquid fell from the wound, which was probably the closest vampires had to blood. She did not double check that the beast had been killed however. Knowing where the shot had hit, and knowing well enough that she had only brought some particularly devestating silver bolts with her, she knew the shot would be fatal. A body fell to the floor.

Her body twisted, her arm moving to place the contraption she held onto her back. Ros' legs kicking her into action, sprinting as fast as she could toward to duel between Jarren and Vincent. The monstrosity that was assaulting Jarren, baring tooth and claw, had lunged towards the man, and while Jarren was doing an admirable job of fending off Vincent's demonic form, it moved faster and more aggressively than any mortal could. Ros' hand fell to her thigh, grasping the hilt of her weapon, which was wrapped in thin animal fur for grip and comfort. Vincent, having turned away from Ros to focus on Jarren, was a perfect target. She pulled the blade from its sheathe, gripping it with two hands, the blade pointing downwards. Following on from one of her comrade's most recent blows, Ros side stepped to the right. Lifting her arms up, the blade with it, she pierced through the skin that composed Vincent's right wing, thrusting the blade all the way through so that the hilt of the weapon touched the flesh of his wing. With as much force as she could muster she dragged the blade downwards.

Vincent let out a roar and had turned his body, beating his wings and trying to reach back to Ros in an attempt to tug both her and the serrated blade away. She held on tightly, and each time Vincent turned to grab her, Ros was pulled along, tugged off her feet and dragged back behind her again. The vampire looked like a dog chasing its own tail. She slowly managed to tear through the leathery hide, finding it ridiculous resilient to harm. Her grip was fierce, and Ros refused to let go of her weapon, but Vincent may have been three times as strong as she was. His violent shakes made in an attempt to break her had not loosened her grip, but it had torn her from the ground, tossing the woman back and forth. The leathery skin of the vampire's wings was tough, but it was simply not strong enough to resist the sharp, serrated edge of her blade. It tore through Vincent's flesh, leaving a great slice through the skin of his wings. With her blade no longer lodged into the vampire's wing but her hand still wrapped around the hilt tightly, Ros was tossed to the side, her body smacking against the stone floor. Hopefully she had bought Jarren some time in the process.

“Is na' problum. Shavin' ye' ish what I'm supposed ta' do, in't it?!” yelled Togrin before taking in a deep breath and blowing through the harmonica a few notes. With his other hand, hammer ready, Togrin charged away from Yan's side, knowing that the man could easily take care of himself. With Jarren and Ros busy with Vincent, it'd be his job to help kill off those that followed the demon.

One of the beasts came forward, eager to kill and feed as they all were. She thrust forward with her blade, a blow aimed for Togrin's stomach. A lazy strike, as he swung his hammer arm to the side, the blade grinding against his plated forearm and knocked aside. Throwing a punch forward with his other hand, the metal gauntlet crashing into the vampire's chest, she stumbled backwards, winded. The dwarf threw a passing glance back at Yan Zhe, wondering if the man needed any help on his side. Togrin should have known better, however, and let out a hearty laugh as a fine powder flew from the sleeves of the beast kin. The vampires before him cowered, flesh sizzling and skin peeling away. Slippery bastard, he always had a trick up his sleeve, as Yan had proved many a time before. Togrin wasn't sure what that powder was made of, but by the Titans he'd have to get some off of him when this was all over.

Turning back to the single vampire that had chosen Togrin as her target, the dwarf charged forward, pulling his arm back, and swinging his hammer towards the woman's knee cap, and with a sharp crack the bone shattered, letting out a violent and blood curdling screech from the woman's lips. He pulled his arm back again, smacking the blunt instrument against the side of the woman's face, her body falling to the ground, limp. Hearing something called out by Yan, challenging Togrin to see who could get the most kills, the dwarf turned, a grin across his face. “An ye' think ye' ave' any chance as winnin'? Ave' alruddy got one!”

It had distracted him however, and Togrin felt a blunt object into the side of his head. Thankfully he was wearing a helmet which took in most of the blow, but Togrin could already feel his ears ringing. He nearly toppled to the ground, but using the momentum to his advantage, the dwarf held his hammer arm out wide and pirouetted on the spot, smashing the head of the weapon into the vampire's shoulder with all the force he could muster. As if mimicking Yan, just seeing the cinders spit off from behind him, Togrin placed the harmonica up to his mouth once again, and blew through the pipes. A series of beautiful but rapid notes that a fellow bard might recognise as the bolero of fire. Cinders spat from his lips with each note, and pulling the instrument away, slipping it into his pocket, Togrin took in a deep breath. Releasing it, a stream of fire spewed forth from his throat, coating the vampire that attacked him.

“Aye've got ma' own fire magic, lad!” he yelled over to Yan, who had begun to spew forth pyromancy of his own. “Da's two!”

[Darkdrago666]

As Yan Zhe finished his swirling sorcery of flame upon the unlucky vampires, he noticed Togrin using his own brand of magic, a bard tale known as "The Bolero of Fire" an old Dwarven Bard song, a personal favourite of Yan Zhe, He enjoyed seeing Togrin in battle, cheapshots thrown every chance, all or nothing mentality, a large hammer to crush bone, and grind the organs to a pulpy mess with? Togrin reminded Yan Zhe of the famous Arena Champions, and one day, Yan Zhe would write these adventures down as Bard songs, so that the generations upon generations could hear the legendary tale of the 4 heroes who defeated, and slain Victus. "only at two? and already six, my short but stout friend!" Yan boasted. It wasn't the first time they had a bet, nor would it be the last.

Yan looked over, seeing some of the lesser vampires running off, whilst the elite stayed to fight. Yan just shrugged, as he moved over to Togrin, seeing a group of ten, maybe 13 elite vampires, heavily armoured, and ready to fight. That's Yan smiled deviantly to Togrin. "what do you say?...you use "Bolero of Fire" and I'll use some of my more advanced sorcery on these guys in unison...we could probably take them down and save Ros and Jarren from that..." Yan looked back, seeing Vincent as the beast. "or maybe we can deal with these mad hope Jarren and Rose take out Vincent out, well what do you say?" The Elite of the clan came closer, ready to charge down Yan Zhe and Togrin down. Many would call them foolish, but Yan Zhe knew that it was a matter of skill over numbers.

Yan Zhe shot forward, as he moved across the field, he used a specialised trap spell, with each of the Vampires becoming paralyzed, all the while from his sleeves, he took a few smoke bombs, and threw them down at every 5 steps. the paralysis trap spell was a hit or miss, some fell for it others didn't Yan Zhe looked over and shouted "The smoke is flammable!" he shouted to Togrin

Vicent felt the blade hit him, but that was just a minor wound. "Your weapons will not harm me, slayer, I'll drain you out, and turn your companions into my thralls...right after I gut you first!" Vincent shot forward ready to strike down Jarren. "damn it!...I need to prepare...I have a spell just for him...but it needs time." Jarren readied himself for the blow, but that's when Ros struck Vincent in his wing, Jarren smirked, knowing this was his time. He took out an oddly shaped dagger, with a charm too, holding it above the blade of dagger "By the blessing of Tanesh, let this instrument, be his bind, his prison."

Vincent shook hard as he could, growling, and screaming as he did so "and let the creature, that stands before me, be bound to the spot, until Tanesh' will has spoken" Vincent finally shook the girl from him, his attention to Ros, who was thrown to the ground. "I'll enjoy making you suffer!" Jarren took the dagger and dashed forward. "by the will of Tanesh, bind this demon in his own prison!" Vincent raised his hand ready to swipe her, but Jarren was lucky enough to stab Vincent in his back. Jarren smirked, seeing Vincent trapped, binded to the ground, forze in place, aside from being able to speak. "an old Elven spell, Ros....you must be in the possession of a Trinity Dagger, once you place Tanesh's Blessing upon the blade, strike your foe...and they will be frozen in a prison. only you can release them from it, it makes a great tool against agile, or powerful foes, like Vincent here" Jarren explained, not sure if Ros had known this before.

[Grif of Hearts]

Togrin scoffed at Yen's childish scoring system. It wasn't because the man had already slain more of these vampiric creatures than Togrin had or anything. Not even slightly. “Yarg. Jus' cas' ye' got yerself more braken vampires dun' mean yer gettin' better than me or nothin'! Ah jus' used t'killin' bigger things! Deese folk are too-”

In one of those rare cases that only happen once in a blue moon, Togrin held his tongue. He felt something begin to stir beneath his feet. It was a soft rumbling, and then a drawn out groan. Was it the floor shaking? It took a quiet belch from Togrin himself to realise that it was his stomach that he could feel rumbling rather than some other force.

He felt flames flicking back and forth within him, trailing up his throat like some kind of snake. It bit at his flesh and soon at his tongue, and the dwarf's hand clutched at his belly. It was as literal as Togrin wanted heart burn to be, but he knew exactly what it was. He had hit a note wrong in his piece, he knew it. While it wasn't completely uncommon and was no real threat, Togrin had always hated playing his musics wrong. It always had side affects, often of the unpleasant kind. The cinders swirled around his mouth, dancing across his tongue and leaping from one yellow tooth to the other.

While he tried to hold back the magical backlash, he soon found himself coughing and spluttering, cinders spewing from his lips, sizzling against his woollen beard. Letting out a heaving cough, the fires that were forging within Togrin's stomach followed his breath, bursting out in another huge fireball. It dissipated soon after, burning harshly but quickly. One of the vampire was close enough to be struck directly was launched backwards, smashing his spine against the solid stone walls that surrounded them. Togrin was sure that the creature was dead, its body slumped over and its clothes alight. Its features were unrecognisable, but its silhouette behind the flames showed no signs of movement. Togrin laughed heartily to himself in a brief moment of sadism.

“'Scuse me. Must'a been last nahgt's dinner!” He chuckled to himself, burping again. “As ah wa'sayin', deese folk are too squishy. Give 'em some nahce armurr instead'a dem flimsy robes and yoo wouldn't be able ta' land a scratch on 'em!” Torig finished his sentence with an almighty roar as if attempting to scare off the remaining vampires. He was only getting caught up in the bloodshed however, and doubted that it would do anything.

However, it did seem like many of the robed vampires were fleeing. Togrin pulled his arm up above his head, and with a heave he threw the weapon forward. He watched as the hammer flew across the room, spinning as it did so. The blunt end struck a fleeing vampire in the back, and it was enough to topple him over. The others seemed to escape however, and Togrin almost felt disappointed. Thankfully, not all of the vampiric forces had fled from the fight. He caught sight of Jarren and Ros still dueling with their leader, and a small group of heavily armoured individuals stormed their way towards Togrin and Yan.

Humanoid in appearance but clearly vampiric in strength and speed, Togrin bellowed in delight. “What did Ah tell ye'? Now'sa time dat Ah make up fer mah losses!”

While he was about to charge, Togrin froze as he heard Yan Zhe whisper in his ear. It was hard to hear over the rattling of metal armour, boots clanging against the stone floor of the ruined mansion. Togrin understood Yan well enough to know what he wanted to do however, and he was only happy to oblige. Having thrown his weapon he was now technically disarmed, but that did not make Togrin harmless. If anything it just made him more vicious.

The next thing that those vampiric warriors saw was a cascade of smoke surrounding them, blocking their view and clogging their noses with the ashen smell. There was another war cry and the smoke burst out into pillars of fire, circling around the soldiers and engulfing them in flame.

Quickly slipping his musical device into one of his side pockets, Togrin ran to pick up his hammer. The vampire hadn't been killed by the strike, only wounded by the impact of the throw, but Togrin raised his weapon and swiftly brought it back down against the creature's skull. “Nah, let's go get us our fellahs!”

Ros felt her back bruise and her stomach winded. She had hit the wall hard, and it was clear that Vincent had the strength of ten men far larger than himself. Her blade had been launched across the floor just as Ros had, scattered to the side out of her reach. She felt a few wooden splinters dig into her back when she tried to move. Clearly the impact with the wall had broken some part of her crossbow, but Ros wouldn't know without a proper look. Until she felt the shadows of wings and fangs bearing over her, Ros thought that she would have had the time to relax and catch her breath.

Unable to move with any real enthusiasm, one hand tried to push herself up while the other clutched lightly at her midriff. She glanced up, seeing Vincent standing above her. His hand raised and claws outstretched, Ros tried to stumble up to her feet. While she was entirely successful she was soon to be beaten down by Vincent, his clawed hand raised high and ready to strike down. Her hands attempted to shield her face, lacking the time to defend herself properly.

But no hit came. Ros glanced up to Vincent, his figure held perfectly still. She held her position cautiously, but when she realised that the vampire didn't even seem to be breathing she took a few steps backwards. Taking on a more refined stance (as opposed to one cowering before a creature that could have easily killed her), she examined the beast intently. Vincent was completely frozen in place. Jarren came out from behind the vampire, mumbling something about having frozen him in place. Ros was simply glad to be spared a few claw marks.

“I believe I know a little about the blessing,” she said, slowly pacing around Vincent's frozen body. “My knowledge on the subject is not extensive, however. If he's frozen like this permanently, do we just leave him here? He looks a little heavy to move.”

She glanced around the room, seeing what destruction Togrin and Yan had left in their wake. A few piles of burning corpses, along with several with caved in skulls. Ros hadn't expected anything less than them. Her blade was left lazily on the floor she noticed, having escaped her grip earlier. She picked up the blade and held it firmly, walking back over to Vincent, standing in front of him. “Of course, I don't think that means he can go unscathed... unless we learn a thing or two about the Soulbane in the next few minutes.”

[Darkdrago666]

Yan Zhe looked over to Togrin, making sure the stout dwarf was okay. Yan smiled a sigh left his lips, and the words "Typical." The destruction that littered the area of their combined attack was filled burnt armor filled with ash, the walls scorched black, it looked like a novice Pyromancer was given a wall of Inferno spell to handle. Seeing a vampire barely moving on the ground, it seemed it just managed to escape the burning blaze. Yan walked closer, taking out his blade. The vampire barely moving, "Vae...Vic....Victus" Yan pointed the blade in the vampire's chest. "last famous words huh?...I hope you find wisdom on your final path" the blade was thrust into the heart, the creature, returning to ash. Wiping his blade, and then sheathing it back, that's when he noticed the large beast seemingly frozen in place, something he recognised, smiling as he did. "Tanesh' Blessing?...that's why Jarren asked me if I knew it...smart move" He looked over to Togrin once more. "not to disturb you admiring the kills you have, but I think Jarren and Ros may need our assistance with that...that thing there" Yan retorted to the Dwarf.

Jarren circled around Vincent, noticing that Ros was asking what to do with him now. "Worry not about lifting him...he will tell us what we want to know...right Vincent?" a snarled growl escaped from Vincent's mouth. "The weapon you insist on finding?...you are making a big mistake. " Jarren looked over to Ros and then back to the vampire frozen in place, taking out a silver knife, stabbing him above the ribs, Vincent felt the pain shoot through his sides, grimacing at sensation he felt. "You might as well kill me, mortal...Soulbane is out of your reach." Yan looked walked over, confidence to his stride. "Gentlemen, and lady, I believe I may a solution to this stubborn freak..." Yan took out a strange talisman, bearing the shape and marks of a Magi Monk Talisman. Holding the talisman, Yan took a sample of the beast's blood from the knife, spreading upon the his talisman. A thumb to his forehead. He spoke in the beast kin tongue, a sort eastern asian, eastern european mix.

The Talisman glowed as Vincent tried not to look upon it, but alas, he couldn't help himself. As the last word spoke, the talisman flashed brightly. Vincent started to breath heavily. "The Soulbane is not in this land...seek a council with The Blackened Sovereign...he will tell you the last know bearer of the blade..." Yan looked to Jarren, and to the others. "So not only have we pissed off a nest of Manticores, and pretty much risked our necks in this crazy plan to capture one of the oldest vampire kings, We will have to talk to the Black Sovereign of Death? the only being in this world, that The Dark Ones fear?...are we going to enter a Velkari Death Camp aswell? Maybe try and solve a Dragon's Riddle?" Yan was starting to ramble, fear does that to him, but Jarren just sighed. "It's no problem Yan...I know someone who deals with Fiend Riders"

[Grif of Hearts]

Ros held the tip of the blade gently against Vincent's neck, the sharp edge just grazing against his skin. She gave him a devilish grin, and while Ros knew that the curse prevented him from showing much of his expression, she could only guess that it was one of disdain. Not a single part of Ros was surprised at this considering what they had just been through, and while she didn't intend on slitting his throat the idea was certainly a tempting one. He knew too much to be killed with one fell swoop, and needed to be roughed up a bit if he were to loosen his lips. This was a mission to gather information over anything else.

Pulling the blade back, the grin still sprawled across her face, Ros held the sword with the blade pointing downwards and slid the weapon back into its holster, leaving it nice and secure. The smile vanished just as quickly as it had arrived, although her eyes locked firmly on Vincent, as if expecting him to leap forward at any moment with claws primed and teeth displayed. He couldn't, she knew, but the idea still lingered. It kept Ros wary and on her toes, despite there being no real danger. Magic was a powerful thing.

Her head creaked to the side, watching closely as Togrin and Yan slowly made their way towards Vincent, the rest of his vampiric soldiers either dead or fleeing into the thick forest that surrounded the ruins. Togrin scraped the edge of his hammer against the stone floor, trying to brush off some of the blood and grizzle that stained it. He smiled at Ros, an action which she mimicked. His casual disposition to combat was enough to make Ros laugh at times.

Both of them turned back to Vincent as they heard his voice weave from his tongue. For a moment, Togrin was worried that the vampire had broken free from his mystical binds, and rose his hammer to respond. But he still found the creature pinned in place, the only thing moving was his lips. Togrin found the master vampire reduced to such a helpless wreck to be rather comical, and the fact that all he could do was talk was just the cherry on top of the cake. A chuckle did slip Togrin's lips in fact, and a growl fell from Vincent's. It did very little to intimidate Togrin though. He was enjoying this far too much to be worried by the vampire lord, unlike Ros.

When the wolf man pulled out a blade of his own, slicing at Vincent's skin, Ros almost felt left out. Ros was interested to find out that, oddly, Yan wasn't wounding the vampire in an attempt to kill or torture him. She should have learnt by now that with his proficient use of beast magic even Yan's most basic of actions could be an attempt to commune with some lost spirits or tear down half a mountain. He spread the blood which lined the blade onto a talisman and spoke a few words unto it. While Ros recognised a few of the words, in the end it was little more than jibberish. She didn't criticise his methods though, seeing the talisman burst into life. Another magic trick no doubt.

“What does it mean?” she asked, eyes locked onto the talisman which slowly shimmered in the dim light. It was rare for an inanimate object to glow without telling someone something.

Yan began to babble a little, stating that the location of the Soulbane was not in these lands, and that the four of them would have to find what may have been the single most powerful entity on the continent. Ros spat out a glob of saliva, hitting the floor with a splash. She was not surprised at this revelation, having run into countless evils since she met the three that travelled with her, but that didn't mean that she had to like it. “Yan, coming to find this damn vampire was crazy.” Vincent snarled. “But the Sovereign? That's the very definition of 'suicidal'.”

“Sounds lahke fun,” muttered Togrin, who wandered around the group just to check for any lone vampires. There were none.

While initially downtrodden by the idea, Ros' pointed ears perked up at Jarren's gleeful tune. He had a way in. “Unless of course one has a contact inside the Fiend Riders. This will help us greatly, Jarren... Getting into the Fiend Riders will now be much, much easier. Of course, we'll still die horribly once we meet the Sovereign but it's a step up I suppose.”

[Darkdrago666]

Yan looked at Togrin with surprise, the thought that A dwarf, even if it was Togrin himself, would think the idea of meeting The Sovereign, just didn't sit well with Yan. "My drunken friend, The Blackened Sovereign gives "The Dark Ones a feeling of fear, He is considered The God of Death to my kind, To think it might be fun, one must be insane or suicidal, possibly insanely suicidal!" Yan had followed the group through the more "dangerous" quests that were involve with Jarren's Mission, but this screamed insanity more so than the other jobs they had done before this point.

Jarren looked at both Ros, and then back to Yan, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder." do not worry friend, Although the infamy of the Riders is frightening, I can say they will listen to those worthy" Yan looked at Jarren with skepticism." I would not like to think what is needed to be deemed worthy in their eyes" Jarren chuckled slghtly, and then turned back to Vincent. "This ends now...I was tasked to make sure that my plan was successful you wouldn't get out of this alive..." he took out his sabre and placed the blade on chest. "Foolish Fiend Hunter...your group is doomed to fail, Victus, "He Who Walks The Night", He will create a world of darkness...you cannot stop him, you-" Before he could finished, The sabre plunged through his chest, and straight through his heart. Vincent burst into flames, his body reverting to ash, like other vampires before. The dagger from his back dropped into the dust.

Yan took out a small cloth bag, gathering samples of the dust, a bag full to be precise. He looked over to the rest of the group. "Elder Vampire Dust is a great ingredient in many powerful potions and poison. Jarren turned to Ros. "I do not anyone within the Fiend Riders myself...But The my former master, he may know something about how to get an audience with The Sovereign." Jarren stated, Yan felt more relieved, they weren't going to explore some ancient tomb and simply try and summon this being, but they were going to consult with an expert, or atleast some who might know something. "well, so long as we don't disturb a tomb of a lich, I feel more relieved now...please Jarren, lets not take on the Fiend riders like we did with Vincent..this all could have failed...Togrin could fell into a dunken coma in some Halfling farm stable" he joked , returning to his regular self. "we should head to the Elven Ranger's Camp...they would probably like to know of our success...and then in the morning...we head to Fiend Rider's Fort, Wolf Haven" Jarren sheathed the blade, looking at the remains of the Elder Vampire.


Two Months Earlier

Jarren had made it to the town of Dallec, A waypoint between Damaska and the outpost into Elvenwood. the Town was mostly silent, the sound of rain hitting stone, and soil beneath his stead's feet was all that could heard, but faint voices, and laughter of men and women was distant, The "Mare's Head" Tavern, a popular inn for weary travellers as they made their way to Damaska, where so called "monster hunters" would often boast of their most recent or impressive kills. His tied his horse to the post outside The Tavern, heading inside out of the rain. Jarren could feel the eyes of many patrons of the Tavern to wonder to the Fiend Hunter's entrance. It was the typical arrangement of people, in the middle, surrounding the fireplace the band of Hunters gathered talking stories of the beasts they have encountered and killed, in the darkened corner lay three hooded and cloaked individuals, most likely assassins, maybe Shadow blades, heading back to their base of operations in Damaska. Jarren moved slowly to bar of the tavern and sat down. "What will it be stranger?" The Barman asked." Just Ale...any kind will do my good man" The owner got the glass ready, and poured the orange tinted liquid, handing it over to Jarren. Jarren took his hood over his head, moving the cloth scarf covering his mouth to take a mouthful of his beverage, it had been weeks since he tasted fine Ale such as the drink he had now.

"And that's when I took my blade, I waited for that Devil Bird to swoop, my blade at the ready, and with a fell swoop, I took the Griffin's head clean off" Jarren over heard, and laughed at the story, of all the made up tales, this one was priceless. "you have something to say? do you think my experience as nothing but a tale?" Jarren looked over to the Monster hunter. "Yes, I do...A griffin would never leave itself so open as you described, for one, it has those powerful talons to swipe you with...despite the common myth, Griffin's rarely attack with their beaks" the Hunter walked over to him "and what are you? some sort of Monster Scholar?" Jarren shook his head."No...but I do know the difference between an actual killing from a chance encounter in which you narrowly escaped from" The man was angered at this point, the drink on his breath, did nothing but make the situation worse. The man grabbed him by the collar, but before he could react, Jarren had already grabbed his wrist, twisted it, and held him in a lock." please don't do this...you would be in pain in the morning."

[Grif of Hearts]

“Or very, very drahnk!” Togrin proclaimed, yelling at the top of his lungs and his voice echoing off the walls of the empty hall. His body was no longer swamped with alcohol, but nobody would have ever noticed. He rolled his head back, his feet stopping in place at the side of Yan. His beady eyes kept a close watch on Vincent, even though he definitely couldn't move. Togrin was not a trusting sort when it came to curses, but he would just have to trust it. “Altha', insanely suicidal dudden sound too far off, do it?”

Ros sighed. “It doesn't, no, but after what I've seen with you three I'd say a suicidal mission has become almost routine now. If we had told anyone that we had decided to hunt down the denizens of these ruins, a group of vampires which were stronger now than they had ever been, we'd be pinned as madmen and kicked out of town. And yet, here we are, [ossibly the most powerful vampire in the entire region stands before us, frozen in place with a powerful rune crawling across his skin. All of his followers have been scattered, either killed or pushed back into the forest. A suicide mission seems rather droll now.”

Nodding, Togrin patted Ros on the back, smiling. “Essactly! Whaht's wrong with dyin' anyways? Builds charahcter!”

“The point is Yan, if we play our cards right so to speak, we shouldn't run into as much trouble as we'd expect. If we stay cautious and try not to insult whoever this 'God of Death' might be, we shouldn't have a problem. If his goal really is to bring nothing but death, I'm quite surprised he has not yet started his conquest.”

Vincent exploded.

Ros hadn't expected it, throwing her arm up to cover her face as his body turned to ash and cinder spat off in all directions, the golden glow he released twinkling in the woman's eyes. She watched as the vampire was reduced to nothing but dust, the wisps of smoke and fire still rolling off of what could only be described as the remains of a corpse. The body had been completely destroyed, bur Ros disliked risk a great deal. Moving her foot forward, Ros swept it along ninety degrees in front of her, scattering the dust to the sides. The body was far from intact, but Ros had seem some magic do some amazing things. She believed that, even if he had been reduced to nothing but a pile of dust, he could be brought back with the right knowledge. Ros wanted to make sure that the remains was scattered into the wind so that it might never be brought back to the mortal plane. They had relied on a cheap but effective gimmick to defeat Vincent today, but it would take much more to face him without I should he ever return.

When Yan began to scoop up what was left, stating that it would be useful for potions, Ros couldn't help but feel a little bit silly after trying to scattered them. “I was indeed aware, Yan. I wasn't aware however that anyone here had the skill to brew such potions, certainly not myself. I hear that the dust of a vampire can be a rather volatile and difficult to temper, but have yet to try it m-”

“Oi, Ros!” yelled Togrin. “This ain't tahme to discuss yer cookin'. Less' get to this ranger camp then, before anyon' decahdes to go and check out what all tha' rucuss over here was about!” Placing his hammer arm to his waist, Togrin fiddled with a small strap that would soon bind it in place. It had only taken him moments before he was already strolling out the hole that him and Ros had made prior to the battle.

~ ~ ~

Dallac was a quaint little place, nestled in the far east of the Damaskan plains. It still too busy and cluttered for Ros' liking, preferring the gentle sounds of the forest to anything found in the towns to cities, but it was not something she was unwilling to put up with if it benefited her. It was a place to rest, restock and sell anything that she had found out in the wilds, just as any town was. It wasn't too far from the border between Damaskan and Elvenwood either, and with the abundance of supplies, whether they be hides or herbs, in Elvenwood that many humans were willing to pay a high price for, it was a worthwhile stopping point. Ros knew the locale well enough being only a day or two walking from the place she was born and raised, and Dallac was a frequent stop for her if she ever needed anything.

But for now she was killing time. It was late evening, and most of the markets had shut. All that was left were a few odd trinket shops. The kinds that were willing to stay up to any hour of the night to get a few extra coins, mostly because they had no alternative if they were to make enough to survive. Ros had bought a few beads out of sympathy in exchange for a rather generous number of pennies, and has since woven them into a few strands of her hair. They weren't completely awful to say the least, and didn't look too out of place with the rest of them. The tavern was the only place for Intha'ros now. She would whittle away the few hours of the evening that remained, and then head to the room that she had rented for the night. Then in the morning she could barter at the market as she pleased.

The tavern, located a few minutes walk away from the inn she was staying, probably wasn't the most productive to waste time, but it was the only thing Ros could be bothered with. Considering how packed it was this evening, there were a lot of people looking to pass away the hours the same as her. It was busier than usual, which was odd, but Ros had paid it no mind. Her robes, made from furs and hides, drew more than a few curious eyes as she walked through the tavern, but once again she paid it no notice.

“Oros ale, if you have any.” Ros only glanced up to the barman for a moment as she spoke, but mostly kept her head down.

The barman eyed her for a second, clearly suspicious of the nigh-barbaric woman who had strolled into his establishment. He did turn eventually, looking through an array of bottles and jugs that lined the wall behind him. Soon he pulled out a murky brown bottle, resting it on the bar. Oros ale was a halfling concoction, and a common drink in their societies. Less common in human settlements, but it was not impossible to find as the barman had only just proved. Ros had developed a taste for it over the years, and it was the only alcohol she'd drink. He pulled out a grubby glass, pouring what was left of the bottle into it and then pushed it towards Ros. She smiled faintly, placing a shilling on the table for the drink, and then proceeded to bury her head in her arms.

What Ros had expected to be flitting around the bar though were tales of adventure and monster hunting. The forests around the town were filled with all kind of beasts, many of which were quite dangerous, and it attracted all manner of warrior and hunter. One woman spoke of stalking a chimera for a week, while another spoke of great sabre wolves which had hunted him. Many of the tales seemed genuine, although even Ros who sat off in the corner by herself could hear the lies spewing from the lips of some of these men.

“Not to mention the fact that it would take a man with the strength of an ogre to slice through griffin bone so easily,” Ros said, overhearing a conversation between two men about how one of them had so easily felled a beast that was both lion and eagle. This tale was most definitely a lie. “Griffins, like birds, have a very small number of bones compared to other animals. Makes them lightweight, but the bones they do have are large and very strong. No ordinary sword would be capable of decapitating such a beast, and no man would be able to wield a sword capable of doing so.”

Thankfully, another man had picked up on the tale tale, mocking the story. It was true, Griffins were smart creatures, and striking with their beaks would leave their neck open to attack. While it would be impossible to slice off in such a manoeuvre as Ros had said, it still left the throat vulnerable. Using claws would be deadlier and less of a risk. She took a swill of her drink, but almost spat it out when the two men threw themselves into a scuffle, which ended quickly with the liar pinned down against the bar with his arm held tightly behind his back. Ros found it far funnier than it actually was, and was struggling not to show it. She swallowed the mouthful, and then proceeded to take another sip.

Fiddling with a crossbow bolt that she had pulled from her satchel, Ros began using the head to pick at some dirt beneath her long fingernails. “No, if you want to hunt a griffin, without magic of course, you'll need something capable of piercing their hide and their bone. A spear would work. It has good enough range. I would suggest a crossbow though, because griffins have a habit of, well, flying away. With this you can hit them in mid-flight, and it will almost always be lethal shot.”

Ros grinned, looking at the pinned man. He didn't seem too happy that his tale had been shot down so quickly.