Better be Naughty

It is a dark, cold day. The world is enveloped in fog which makes everything appear half hidden. Even here in the market district where there are normally enough people to keep the fog at bay the white clouds linger; crawling down the alleyways and sneaking underfoot to make everything hazy. The chill of it lingers on the skin and there are few people about today. Even the shopkeepers seem about to hang it up.

That's when it can be heard. The muffled sound of a scream half covered by the fog; but still clear - coming from one of the alleyways near by.

The tall, pale figure had been just leaving the clothing shop and was cleaning and adjusting that conical hat of his. He felt the chill, but the layers he was wearing meant that this was almost comfortable weather for him.

Almost.

After looking at himself in the reflection of the store-glass, he turned and listened to the shrill, high pitched screaming. In a flash the blackclad man was racing down the street, hurrying toward the scene as fast as he could.

Olav has been enjoying the weather, honestly... the chill reminds him of home, a little. And he's been doing some shopping... his recent work with the Guild has put more coin in his pocket than he quite knows what to do with, honestly. So he's one of the few folks wandering around the market when he hears the muffled cry. Curious, he approaches the alley. "Is everyone all right in there?" he asks loudly as he approaches, then looks over his shoulder at the rushing man in black.

A few seconds after the first responders arrive, a red haired woman floats down to the door and glides her way in. "I could hear that from the rooftops. Everyone okay?" She says as her feet finally touch the ground.

There are two men in the alley. One very tall in fine black clothing and skin so pale that for a moment all you see is his clothing against the white of the fog. He has black hair and when they look up, eyes green enough to belong to a cat.

He's holding another man in his arms, one who is struggling against him screaming for the green-eyed man to let go. "Help! Help me! Let go!" He turns toward you and then then back toward the man. The man stares into his eyes and suddenly the struggling man goes limp.

Then, the green-eyed man tilts forward, hugging the limp body close to his own and burries his face into the other's neck. He does not seem aware of you until one of you speaks and then he looks up with a lazy expression. He draws backwards just enough for a stain of blood to be seen on his licks as he licks them clean. "I am very well indeed my friend." He flashes fangs in his warm smile.

Olav doesn't have to be told twice... he is already charging the green-eyed man when he finishes taking in the situation.

Despite the pale man's similar fashion sense, Rondel felt nothing but hatred and rage, his lips curling back into a snarl as he unsheathes the beautiful brilliant bastard sword at his hip. Already memories were coming up in his mind, and this nameless attacker was suddenly someone very personal in the mind of the hunter.

"Back to Hell with you, demon!"

Olav attempts to yank the poor man out of the green-eyed assailant's grip.

And while Olave focuses on rescuing the civilian, Rondel enders a Blood Rage, and charge-attacks the pale attacker recklessly.

The man lets out a weird rough noise that seems by his body language to be some manner of a laugh. If so it sounds wholly unnatural. As Olav rushes forward the green-eyed vampire throws the body of the man he's holding at Olav. Meanwhile he stretches his arms out, allowing Rondel to attack him viciously. A cut ruins the vampires clothes and then suddenly the vampire is inside Rondel's attack range. So close so quickly that Rondel can smell the blood that the vampire just drank. "Such passion my friend... You are beautiful." The vampire reaches out just long enough to touch Rondel on the cheek and then strikes out with a vicious attack with that same bare hand.

Olav takes up the impact of the thrown man and lays him down on the ground, checking to see if he's OK. Not that he's any kind of healer, but he'll do his best.

Azog is just walking down the street, minding his own business with the dark and fog. Not that it slows him down much, and the chilly damp is annoying, but he has a heavy cloak on, and he occasionally looms out of the fog, catching people off guard, much to their discomfort. This can't be on purpose, because he's as sneaky as anyone in plate armor isn't, but people aren't always paying attention. There seems to be a disturbance up ahead, but he hasn't got there yet, and hasn't any idea what's going on.

Through a haze of anger, Rondel wasn't exactly a fountain of conversation. With the sword slashing through the vamp's torso, the pale, blackclad gothic man had little room to protect himself against the pale, blackclad gothic monster. The backhand was staggering, causing Rondel's head to snap violently to the side as blood and spittle sprayed out against the alleywall, no doubt joining the deadman's plasma...this alley was going to be filthy no matter what happened.

But if Rondel felt the pain of this powerful creature's staggering attack, he didn't seem to show it. He looked back up, left hand reaching in his coat lapel to pull out a sharpened length of wood, a stake that he he tried to violently stab into the vampire's chest area. There was no finesse at play here, this was just physical strength and violence.

"You're less than nothing."

With barely a thought, Tara lifts off the ground again, and she speeds up time for her allies that are there. "If only I could slow down time....."

The vampire tilts back his head and grins. With one hand he snatches the stake from Rondel's hand and tosses it down the alley while with the other he reaches out toward Rondel again. He stays close to keep that blade practically useless. "Tell me my dark one, do you prefer pain? Or... pleasure?" The vampire's green eyes seem to glow.

The man on the ground is unconscious, and he's bleeding profusely from the wound on his neck. He seems alive at least... for the moment.

Darius walks out of the Fernwood, accompanied by a huge dire panther who's fur is reddish-purple and with sharp spines on her back, Darius hears the sounds of blades clashing and immediately goes into attack mode. He turns to the panther, "Fluffy! Stay!" The panther murrs interrogatively at Darius, glances at the battle, and then sits on her haunches and licks a paw, washing her face. Darius draws his glowing greatsword and says, "Well well well, what do we have here?"

Deak heard the commotion from a little farther away, but comes jogging up now to see Rondel in savage looking single combat in an alleyway. He pauses to get a better idea what's going on.

Olav does his best to stop the victim's bleeding. If he can manage to do so in a way that seems likely to keep the guy from bleeding out for at least a few minutes, he will charge the green-eyed man and attempt to pin him down. If not, he will keep applying pressure, etc.

Azog hrms as he hears commotion in the alley nearby, and he'll hustle on over, because in Alexandria anything can happen. And often does. In this case, anything is a vampire, and Azog smiles, or perhaps snarls ferociously. "If you want a fight," he says, "fight me. Lets see how hard you are." And he draws his sword, flourishing it, and snapping into a deadly show of skill that lets everyone know that he's, well, pretty badass.

If Rondel had been on the outside looking in, he'd no doubt realize the disadvantage he was at. Here in the moment, with his blood boiling, all he saw was an enemy, and a hated one at that. He had just enough wherewithal to speak in short, terse tones.

"I prefer pain. Yours."

That was all the warning the vampire got before Rondel launched his head forward in a headbutt, aiming that 'armored' leather cap of his for the bridge of the being's nose. At the same time his left hand snatched the hand-axe on his belt, pulling it loose and hacking and cleaving wildly at the undead shape in front of him. Good thing about hatchets and tomahawks, they didn't need much room to maneuver at all. Of course this was a supernatural representation of evil who was likely much stronger than the gothic hunter, but he was using any possible advantage he could get at the moment.

Deak now realizes who Rondel is fighting, and just notices Olav ministering to a pretty awful-looking stranger. He says, "Holy Telmentar!" then sees Azog's intimidating display. He decides to jump into the fray, running past Rondel toward Olav and the downed man, but incanting a spell as he moves, and tapping Rondel, perhaps rather firmly, on the back as he passes by the gothic warrior.

GAME: Deak casts Shield of Faith. Caster Level: 6 DC: 15

Deftly the vampire steps back enough to evade the headbutt, but the man's words seem to mean... something to the vampire. "Oh, one of /those/ are you." He grins. "It will be my pleasure then." The axe cuts into the vampire and he makes a soft sound of what sounds like satisfaction. Every little cut elicits a soft sigh from the vampire, but the wounds seem to heal faster than Rondel can make them. Worse, when Azog enters the fight the vampire steps neatly around Rondel; grasping him by the shoulders and leaning downwards to whisper into his ear. "My dark one, feel my pain..."

Then the vampire neatly opens his mouth and aims his teeth at Rondel's neck. Now, Azog will have to go through Rondel to attack him.

Meanwhile Olav is busily keeping the blood /inside/ the man, who seems to be bleeding faster than he ought to.

Noticing the cleric joining the party, Olav calls out "This guy is bleeding out!" as he tries to keep his neck wound sealed.

Azog will have to go through someone to attack the vampire? That sounds like a challenge. Azog accepts it. Azog sheaths his sword and reaches out to grab Rondel also. Hopefully he won't break as Azog tries to drag him bodily out of the vampires clutches. Azog's no unarmed combat monster, himself, but he's helluva strong, and ... when did he grow to be fourteen feet tall? That's new...

A wee figure pops out from a narrow alleyway, heading towards the Fernwood Pub. The sound of the nearby scuffle has them pause, the figure drawing back their hood to reveal large, pointed ears. Then Olav's voice is heard, and the Goblin runs towards it. "Olav? What's going ... on?" Murder pauses to take in the scene. "Oh." Her eyes begin to glow a bright red, and she fumbles through the furs to find the sword on her back. The Gobbo starts to advance into the fray, snarling and almost foaming at the mouth.

Deak reaches Olav's patient a moment later but has already incanted his light curing spell, which he discharges upon contact. He then sets about examining the patient to see how bad he really is.

Blood was spraying, but Rondel was no fool. Even in this haze of anger he recognized that conventional weapons were less than effective. He knew to combat something like this, he would need something more specialized. Still, he wanted his damn sword back. And being a masterwork item, it could take a bit of abuse and rough handling.

And so, with Rondel gripping the hilt tightly with his right hand, his left went around to grasp it around the edge on the other side of the deadman. Using it more like a lever, as the vampire's fangs approached, the young human hunter suddenly twisted himself away, using all of his strength to try and rip his blade right out of the creature as he dashed away. Luckily for him, he had that blessing around him, which was the only reason his throat wasn't a crimson mess right now!

"You're little more than a beast that thinks it is a man. You have no place on this world, or any other!"

GAME: Deak casts Ray of Sickening. Caster Level: 6 DC: 15
<OOC> Deak says, "Spontaneous CLW ^^^"
GAME: Deak rolls CLW: aliased to 1d8+5: (6)+5: 11
GAME: Deak rolls Heal: (9)+13: 22

With Rondel out of the way (his weapon pulled from the vampire's body with sickening ease), there's a clear line for the much larger Azog to attack. And Murder. At least it seems that way until they reach one another and the vampire steps deftly out of their path so that they have one another to contend with. Azog is of course much harder to avoid given his size, but the vampire ducks under one arm and around out of the way as if it were easy. He follows in Rondel's footsteps, harrying after the man. "Come back my dark one." He has this entire time, never ceased to smile.

With Deak's spells given, the man's blood finally remains inside of his body. He looks ashen for a brief instant before the heal kicks in and then he blinks tiredly up at Olav and Deak. "What... what happened?"

Olav nods his thanks to Deak as soon as the victim recovers, and joins the gang attacking the vampire with a roar of outrage, grabbing at his arm and trying unsuccessfully to pin it behind his back. Azog's attack is easier to avoid with his size so much larger, and his skill is with the sword rather than with wrestling. So if the vampire is going to play it that way, Azog will bring every ounce of his considerable skill with the sword to bear against the vampire. It ought to be sufficiently magical to hurt the creature, though the glow is dim. But that's the blessing of Feiu of the Tears, who men call Vardama. It's otherwise quite potent, even apart from Azog, who strikes like an avalanche coming down. This, as they say, may leave a mark.

Deak smiles at Olav, then helps the man to his feet, bestowing a 'Calming Touch' in the process. He tells the man, "Now RUN!"

For his part, the 'dark one' was busy darting away from the vampire, instantly knowing that he was being chased, instantly feeling the eyes on the back of his head, and the distinct feeling of being prey in the middle of the woods. He didn't have many chances, and he knew even with the awesome edge of his blade, it wouldn't be enough to fell this beast.

And so, Rondel continued to run, stumbling over his own two feet and quickly righting himself. He'd continue running until the very second he 'felt' the vampire on him. That would be when he whirled around, blood-stained bastard sword in his left hand as his right held that stake, stabbing forward toward the creature's chest once more. His lips pulled back in a sneer, it was easy to see the blood dripping down his chin and splashing across the ground.

GAME: Murder casts Burning Hands. Caster Level: 5 DC: 14

The space is pretty claustrophobic to have a fight in, but the Goblin feels almost right at home. She manages to avoid being jostled or stepped on by the ginormous Oruch, and she catches up to the creature chasing Rondel, sliding past the bloodsucker on her knees, shouting a few arcane words in Goblin-talk. A gout of flame roars upwards, towards the vamp's face.

The vampire again manages to evade Rondel's stake, grasping that hand and taking another blow from the bastard sword. It's clear now that the vampire is /letting/ himself be hit by Rondel's attacks. He's too fast and too easily avoided the attacks from others for this to be mere coincidence. The green eyes glow as they set upon Rondel, and there's a force there, sinking into Rondel's mind.

Meanwhile Murder steps in, setting her blaze right beneath the vampire. He's forced back a quick half-step, the fire singing his clothes and forcing him right back into Azog's attack. There's a moment of odd silence as the weapon sheers the vampire's arm clear off. Immediately the vampire sags and lets out a low moan. He does not cry out, but he stoops to pick up the limb, turning toward Azog with sudden interest in his eyes. "Thank you my friend. That was... exquisite." He makes that weird laughing sound again and presses the arm against himself, the fingers already beginning to work once more as it reattaches itself. "Take care my dark one. We shall meet again... soon I think."

With that the vampire becomes a haze of mist which blends with the fog.

Olav roars inarticulately at the retreating fog.

Azog snorts at the vampire, "Always glad to help. I'll do your head next." But the vampire fades to mist and robs Azog of the chance. He says to Murder, "Can you do the flame thing again?" He looks around at the others, "Are any of you hurt badly?" Sheathing the sword, he fishes around in his backpack.

Only then, with the retreating, vampire, did Rondel let go of the Rage coursing through his veins. Instantly he sagged against the wall of that alley, covered in blood with not all of it being his own...but enough of it was.

He was taking some heavy breaths, almost leaning against his bastard sword stabbed into the ground as if it were his cane, and looking up at the gloomy sky.

"He was toying with us. As if he were a boy, playing with his wooden soldiers."

GAME: Murder casts Burning Hands. Caster Level: 5 DC: 14

Murder is already reciting the words she knows to have flames sprout from her finger times, and she manages this with at a jog, a gout of flame bursting upwards into the mist. "DDDIIIIIIEEEE!!", she screams as the fire roars.

Deak shouts, "Avert your eyes, folks!" Then speaks a command word, pointing right at the vampire-fog.

GAME: Deak casts Burst of Radiance. Caster Level: 6 DC: 16

Almost, as if appearing out of nowhere, does Tara reappear. She floats down and places a hand on Rondel's shoulder. "I'll take care of your wounds, warrior. You worry about catching your breath."

GAME: Olav rolls reflex: (12)+2: 14
GAME: Murder rolls reflex: (19)+3: 22

It seems like it's the end of the fight, that the mist is gone. The flash of light and the burst of fire make it even harder to tell. Until suddenly the vampire is behind Rondel, turning his face and staring into his eyes. "Protect me, my dark one." He smiles at the command, his green eyes glowing as he takes in the rest of you. "I will play with you a while longer since you wish it so."

GAME: Azog rolls reflex: (19)+7: 26

GAME: Rondel rolls will: (1)+1: 2 (EPIC FAIL)

Knowing full well what he was about to do, Deak was prepared for the momentarily blinding flash. He sees where the vampire appears and hears what he says. He shakes his head and utters another spell…

Despite his exhaustion, Rondel forces himself to stand tall, staggering like a lurching zombie in front of the vampire, his sword pointed at the group.

"I thank you all for your help. I sincerely mean it, from the depths of my soul. Which is why I am asking you, politely, to disperse. Now."

GAME: Deak casts Dispel Magic. Caster Level: 6 DC: 17

Olav can't see a thing, but he can hear the exchange, and Deak's spellcasting. "That bloodsucker is messing with your head!"

Azog arches a brow at Rondel. In his helmet, this is hard to see. "Seriously?" he asks. But there's no vampire here now, so there's not much for him to do. He'll hang out, though. In case it comes back.

Tara had been trying to help Rondel when the vampire suddenly appears behind her. She barely turns her head and her braid immediately unwinds itself to lash out at the vampire. Many many strands of hair try to grab the vampire's limbs and keep him from getting away....

The vampire is caught up immediately in Tarragon's hair, but he uses his preternatural strength to jerk her closer to himself. Which nearly collides her with Murder as the goblin comes in for her attack. He's sufficiently bound however to be struck by Murder's attack. With a rough sound he pulls her closer as well, shoving her over to Rondel. Meanwhile he wiggles his way out of his bindings and shakes his head at all of you. "Come my friends, give me your best yes?"

Olav is still blind, and reluctant to attack a crowded group of combatants most of whom are allies. "Wouldn't it be easier to just jump off a tall cliff or something? I bet that would hurt."

Deak brandishes his bill at the walking dead, and incants another spell, causing another bill of shimmering force to appear from thin air and attack.

GAME: Deak casts Spiritual Weapon. Caster Level: 6 DC: 16

Despite how hard she was shoved, Tara simply flys her way around Rondel to make her way to Olav. A lock of her hair floats out and wraps around Olav's head...pointedly around his eyes. "Let your sight be restored." She says softly. "While it can be good to sense things without sight, having sight is a lot easier."

Darius, being somewhat more strategic than he normally is, waits until the last possible second before he attacks the vampire... from above! He jumps from the nearest building, aiming his sword slash downwards, trying to catch the vampire unawares while he deals with the rest.

In the haze of combat, Rondel moved out of the way for a quiet moment, clearing his mind after those green eyes pierced into his mind. It was disturbing how easily some things could tamper with the very foundations of who you thought you were.

As others fought, Rondel was applying a bit of oil to the end of his bastard sword, getting it nice and slathered against the steel before striking a match, and watching the end of the blade go up in a fiery blaze. He doubted this would last long, but it would last enough for a good swing or two, maybe. And that was why Rondel, covered in blood(though not as injured as before, thanks to the healing magics of others), was leaping through the air, swinging his bastard sword two-handed and aiming to cleave the beast's skull in twain.

"HRAAAAAGH!"

Not the wittiest of combat dialogue. But it would do.

Azog spots the vampire again, and he resumes his attack, stabbing and slashing in an expert manner, clearly skilled for all his fury and raw power driving his attacks. "You want my best? Try some of this and tell me how you like it?" The attack that comes is a straight thrust aimed at his chest, though carefully clear of his allies.

As Rondel whets his sword it is clear that the vampire's attention is on the dark-clothed man. Even as he evades thoughtlessly Darius' attack. The vampire sidesteps Deak's summoned weapon, but as Azog enters the fray once more the vampire's eyes take on a different sheen. The attacks narrowly miss, but the smile on the preternatural creature's lips suggest that this is /fun/ for it. Until Rondel comes out of nowhere swinging his weapon. The vampire's green eyes widen in surprise and it sidesteps his attack... right onto Azog's blade. The weapon pierces the vampire who stills beneath the blade's weight and a short harsh noise leaves him. Fire lights beneath the vampire and his clothing catches.

"There they are! Hey you! What are you doing?" The town guard has arrived, drawing their weapons and slotting into the alleyway with curiosity. So jarring is their entry that it might have for some been forgivable to miss the vampire drawing himself back on the blade. Unsheathing his body from it. To watch as he grins and then... suddenly with a flick of his fingers he vanishes. Not into mist but into nothingness. In parting he offers a blown kiss to Rondel and Azog before either can levy another set of attacks.

"What are you doing with your weapons drawn out here? Are you all fighting amongst yourselves?" One of the guard boldly looks around, trying to get some answers out of you.

GAME: Tarragon rolls spellcraft: (2)+18: 20

Olav blinks and looks around in satisfaction, his vision returning... just in time to fail to see the vampire, and in time to see the guard. "Yeah," he tosses back sarcastically, shaking his head. "That's _definitely_ more likely than that we were fighting a creature who disappeared. Smart."

Deak ceases to concentrate on his Spiritual Weapon as the guards replace the vanished vampire.

GAME: Murder rolls spellcraft: (2)+7: 9
GAME: Deak rolls spellcraft: (12)+11: 23

Darius frowns and carefully replaces his sword into his scabbard and whistles, "Fluffy! Come!" A huge dire panther slips into the alley to rub up against Darius's leg.

Rondel was picking himself up off the ground, his sword still blazing in brilliant flame that illuminated the darkness. In the orange glow it was easy to see his blood-covered face, and his hardened grey eyes staring fearlessly at the guards. When he spoke it was clear he was breathing hard, but even still it was nearly impossible to miss the air of arrogance and education dripping from every syllable, the way the blood dripped from his cloak, hat and gloves.

"We were in combat with a terrible thing, a figure of darkness and malevolence shaped vaguely like a man. Be warned, gentlemen, dead men stalk these streets."

GAME: Azog rolls sense motive: (18)+14: 32

Tara smiles to Olav as his sight returns...then looks to the guard. "Honestly? You're asking us if we're fighting each other?" She says as her re-braids itself. "COnsidering that we just facing a vampire that's powerful enough to teleport without error away from here....and he just killed someone in the shop....and you're going to ask us if we're fighting each other?"

Deak looks at Tarragon, and says, "Which shop? I cannot raise the dead, but let's be sure that the killed won't rise as a spawn of that foul fiend!"

The red glow in the Gobbo's eyes goes out suddenly, and she flops almost bonelessly to the ground, with her sword clattering to the ground beside her.

Azog glowers at the guard, and says, "We're fighting a vampire, if you must know." He's still fourteen feet tall, and he loooooms over the guard, blade still bare. This would unsettle a lot of people, and Azog's not cutting the guard a lot of slack. "If you think I'd fight adventurers, you may ask the Temple of Garganos Behemoth, who you call Angoron, who I am. I am well known there." He's Tier 4 with the Temple, they certainly know him. They won't vouch for him for anything, that's not Angoron's way anyhow, but he's known there.

Olav looks at Murder in surprise, not having previously noticed her, what with being blind and all. He puts his axe away and helps her up off the ground. "You all right?"

"Dead? You killed someone? Or this vampire you claim to see did?" The guard seems quite upset but another guardsman shakes his head and places a hand on his shoulder.

"Easy Franklin, they're telling the truth can't you tell? Leave them be we best report this to the temple. And to our commander."

Murder blinks up at Olav and lets out a yawn. "Just tired." She slowly stands and wobbles a bit more on her feet, before stooping to grab her sword. "Are you alright?", she asks of Olav, before looking to the others, and then the guards. "Everyone okay?"

Deak says, "Someone make sure the Vardamans send someone to this shop, soon." He heads into the shop to tend to the dead, and make sure he can't rise as vampire spawn until the Vardama folks can relieve him.

Azog sheaths his sword and returns to his normal size. He shrinks, technically, but when you end at seven feet, it's hard to call it shrinking.

-End-