Excellent. The "sick, old man" impersonation had fooled everyone, and Mithias lost the two investigators by 'disappearing' around a corner. Now atop a building, Mithias stashed his guise. Underneath it, he had a different cloak, two swords, a coiled whip, a rugged pair of boots, belt, and a tough leather vest. A wide-brimmed hat hung on his back from a cord around his neck. A slight grin betrayed his inner excitement over the information he had gathered. A hunting party was going out tonight. Some fledgling hunters would be making their first kills, or dying, but the risk was supposedly low with such a large group. Mithias dashed off to the location.

His aged senses on alert, the rogue vampire stalked the group of humans. There were a few hours with no action, but as soon as the light dimmed to critical, he detected the immortal hunting party. Staying out of their way as well, he monitored, sizing up their members, their leaders, their strengths. Taking them all on would be foolish, but perhaps he could do the humans a small favor...

Jarleth looked like easy prey. Not yet knowing his name, Mithias saw what was about to happen. A werewolf sprung at him, making an incredible leap with extreme height and speed. Dive-rolling at just the right moment, in a flash of black and steel, Mithias severed the wolf's two front paws. The heavy body still crashed into the young human hunter as the beast landed, but oh how it howled and bowled over. The werewolf never saw what hit it. Blood was everywhere. Cold hearted, and thirsty, Mithias appeared nothing more than a pair of softly glowing red eyes in the darkness. The human hunter was obviously freaked out as he backed away and grabbed for weapons. Mithias took a slow step forward. The werewolf shifted to human form. Maimed and thrashing, it's hands were missing, and it bled from stumps. A monster himself, Mithias gestured toward the creature. "Your enemy is suffering. Have you no mercy?" He asked Jarleth.