TVC II Chapter 7 - Return to the Silver Pinnacle

[Count michael]

Frustrated at missing it's chance to kill the vampire, the Skinwolf howled as it continued to charge forwards on all fours the whip passing harmlessly over it as the beast, denied it's meal took the next best thing driving to the ground two screaming newbloods. Tearing into these unfortunate vampires the beast devoured them whole whilst their comrades scurried away to a safe distance no match for the beast's hunger

Finished it's meal but still ravenously hungry the Skinwolf gazed warily upon Kylar pacing back and forth panting heavily whilst slavering in anticipation. Howling madly the Skinwolf turned towards another tree uprooting just like the previous one, however unlike before the beast threw the tree at Kylar whose smug face turned to brief shock before quickly snarling an incantation firing another bolt of dark magic which blasted the tree. The trees destruction created a large cloud of sawdust and splinters which impaled into those vampires nearby including three of those charging Kithan causing them to stumble in pain with large shards of wood embedded in their backs. Kylar was saved by the heroic sacrifice of a newblood which threw itself in it's masters way of a large splinter which pierced it's heart. Cursing, Kylar looked around for the beast but as the cloud of dust cleared there was no Skinwolf in sight only a large hole surrounded by a couple of dismembered vampire corpses

 

[Count Magpyr]

Are vampires incapable of true learning? thought the Wight king. The cursed bowman had fired at him again! Once again while he 'thought' he was on target, he was in fact firing on his own men, such was the nature of the curse. The bolt struck the middle blood breather n the approaching cluster of five and he exploded in a most dramatic manner, wiping out his 4 companions. Meanwhile the banshee handmaiden rose from the battlefield where she had descended to feed off the agony of the enemy. This bolt had also missed, as all would until the curses were lifted and was eft embedded in a new blood's skull. Kithan just hoped he was there to observe the cursed one try to use his sword; with any luck he would take off his own leg.

 

[The Dread King]

Sieghard snarled almost silently as his bolts were redirected once again. How? Kithan could not have interfered with the runed bolt without causing its combustion. It must have been a spell, a hex of some kind, placed on Sieghard himself, that had redirected those bolts. He reached out to the winds of magic...and yes, there it was! A curse subtly placed upon him by the wight that redirected his arrows - the ingenuity! Sieghard was filled with admiration for the skill of his opponent for a moment before dismissing this and tappijg into thw dins to remove this curse. His enemy's skill was irrelevant. Kithan had to die.

Whispered words of power rolled off Sieghard's tongue even as he straimed internally at the effort exerted. After roughly half a minute or so, the vampiric crossbowman sighed. The deed was done - the hex dispelled.

Gleefully, he raised bolts to his crossbow once again, firing an anti-spectre bolt at the banshee handmaiden once again, before continuing his attack on the Lord of Ivrel by firing two more of his enscorcelled, volatile to magical interference and explosive bolts at the wight king.

 

[The Dread King]

Sieghard next turned his sights on Odric. Not only was the Von Carstein able to dodge his bolts - perhaps in part due to Kithan's curse, which had now thankfully been lifted - but he was able to fire his own back, and his struck true. The ignominy! Sieghard readied his crossbow once more, preparing another incendiary arrow. Let's see him dodge an explosion! The crossbowman grinned, fired, and then fired a silver bolt after the incendiary one, straight at the Von Carstein. If the vampire somehow managed to survive the explosion, he'd find, to his horror, that it had marked a more precise weapon - a silver bolt aimed straight at his heart.

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Kylar frowned, the beast was out of sight but not out of mind. "You there!" he barked to a group of new bloods. "Over here! The beast is hiding somewhere; protect me, and we will look for him among the trees!" Five of them shadow-stepped to surround Kylar in a protective ring. Their coordinated fighting and their numbers made them far more deadly to the council than their raw abilities, and if Mikhail wanted to spring an ambush, he would find himself outnumbered - and, Kylar thought with a hint of relish and pride, inferior.

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Markus grimaced as he saw the shadowmancer shadow-merge. He knew it heralded the arrival of one of the vampire's more deadly tricks - but at least, he reasoned, there was a herald. With this indication in hand, the pyromancer was prepared. He began to chant in harsh tones, muttering spells with a voice that seemed to rise in volume with the rising heat around him, and even as the three copies of Niklaus appeared, he finished casting one of the spells he had been preparing. Niklaus' scimitar tore a hole in the assassin's coat, but it went no further before its tip was engulfed in a ring of fire, and it was driven back from Markus by the flames. The ring of fire had not destroyed it, but it encircled Markus completely, creating a burning barrier between himself and any assailant. The two illusions who had sought him through the flames were shattered by the harmful effects of the arcane blaze. Before Niklaus could strike again, Markus rose into the air on a plume of flame, out of his protective barrier and into the open air. He cackled as the winds of fire roared around him, and snapped his hands outwards in a wide motion, causing a ring of fire - an arena, of sorts, to spring up around Niklaus and Markus, burning itself into the ground and then reaching up to waist height. Knowing he had encircled his foe, Markus laughed again, and leapt off his (now disintegrating) pillar of fire, firing a torrent of deep red flame straight towards Niklaus as he did so. As he jumped into the fray once again, he shouted, "I'd like to see you shadow-merge through that!"

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The new blood responsible for breaking the disruptor had an overwhelming feeling of confidence surging through him after his latest exploit. Coupled with his eagerness to slaughter, his eyes lit up when he saw the ambassador Varelsa and Niklaus leave Sylvie's position. Gesturing to four of his fellow new bloods, he bade them come to his position. Reluctant to leave the main battleground, they shot him inquisitive looks, but did not openly question his call - for he had been the hero of the day so far for the rebel assassins. He briefly explained to them, "Look, over there - " he pointed to Sylvie " - that strigoi girl, she's the reason we came here. The council wanted to rescue her, and we are determined to recapture or kill her. You know what to do; let's finish the job." The other four nodded, and they rushed towards the strigoi's position on the nearby hilltop. The assassins' footfalls would reach her ears soon. Their blades would come next.

 

[Count Vashra]

Niklaus smiled, impressed. "A worthy arena for our duel," he commented. "I must thank you." In response to the flame, Niklaus conjured a wall of shadow, which barely stopped the fire, and collapsed almost immediately afterwards. Obviously the stolen energy from the miscast was running out. This duel would be over soon. "I won't even try." He sent sent a burst of shadow at the flame wall, which immediately destroyed it. His suspicions proved unfortunately correct, Niklaus made a shield in his left hand and charged straight at the Pyromancer. If complex illusions wouldn't work, then a simple, but risky, trick would have to do. He rammed the shield at the Pyromancer, and swung his sword at his neck. The moment his shield made contact with the Pyromancer's body, if it did, he would create a spike in the centre which would hopefully pierce right through his opponent's body.

 

[the hidden one]

Odric glanced in satisfaction at the vampires that had been shredded by his attack, before regaining his senses and running again, but this time not fast enough. The first arrow lit his cloak on fire, and Odric immediately rolled on the ground, trying to put out the fire. This action also saved him from the second arrow, which embedded itself in a tree behind him.

Knowing he would lose this fight eventually without firing at the other archer, Odric hastily retreated, fleeing back and behind a clump of trees.

Examining the arrow that had pierced the tree, Odric tried to gauge the angle that the arrow had been fired from. Hoping that the arrow had not been deflected, Odric loaded a different kind of arrow, one that would land, and then activate igniting with a massive white fire for around a minute. Firing, Odric hoped that the assassin had not moved to far, while also noting that then incendiary arrow had started a fire that would soon reach his treeline.

 

[The Dread King]

Markus smiled and leapt away to one side quickly, his skill allowing him to parry Niklaus' scimitar with his sword and avoid what seemed at least to be a painful (and thus undesirable) sheild ram. "You'll have to do better than that," he challenged, launching a small burst of flame towards the shadow mage's flank.

The irony was that Niklaus could do better than that. In melee combat, Markus would utterly dominate the shadowmancer. In the arcane arts, however, the assassin could tell that Niklaus was naturally stronger than himself, and given that the disruptor system had been broken for some time, the Lahmian's shadow magic was completely unconstrained. Given the injuries that Markus had sustained in this battle so far, Niklaus might, if he used his magical rather than physical abilities more often, be able to defeat the pyromancer. But what Niklaus might have done was of no relevance to the asassin. Niklaus seemed to be resigned to military combat in an artificial arena. That would be his downfall, and although Markus might be sad to see such a waste of arcane talent, he would also be pleased to see the last of the shadowmancer. Readying another small fireball, Markus prepared to attack Niklaus one more time. It was time, the assassin resolved, to finish this.

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Sieghard, halfway through reloading his crossbow, started as a strange arrow that appeared to be landing made its way through the trees towards him. He was confused as to why someone would shoot an arrow so that it would lose its momentum before reaching him. He thought, What the - and was interrupted by a great white flash of light around him, presumably caused by the arrow. He cursed; his position was now clear for to see, and this was probably the Von Carstein archer's doing, given his skill with a crossbow. He started to run away from the vicinity of the light source - unfortunately for him, the light was subsiding only painfully slowly - to another part of the woods surrounding the clearing, and fired two more bolts at Odric as he did so, the former designed with runes to cause great damage to the undead, and the latter to cause a harmful explosion that could blast nearby victims to pieces.

 

[Count Vashra]

Niklaus spun with Lahmian grace, and caught the fireball on his shield. Lahmian grace...Lahmian grace! He was Lahmian, not von Carstein or Blood Dragon. Lahmians were subtle and manipulative. And he was a Shadowmancer, the epitome of manipulation, if not subtlety. Why was he fighting with scimitar? Was he not the Living Shadow? This was why he did not carry swords and guns. This was a duel, yes, but an arcane duel.
With this in mind, Niklaus threw his shield, spikes on the rim, at the Pyromancer. This had been tried and failed before, but he may as well do something with the shield rather than just let it dissipate. Next, there was the arena to deal with.
"You want me to do better? I accept your invitation!" Putting his scimitar - he wouldn't be giving it back to an assassin, for sure - away in a shadow-scabbard, he stretched his arms wide, calling upon the Wind of Shadow. Fire could be extinguished, and this he would do. His first target would be the fire arena, as a symbolism of the Pyromancer's confidence, skill and power.
"I said you made a fine arena. Perhaps I can make a better one." Shadows billowed from his hands, wrapping around the firewall, attempting to smother it and replacing it with a wall of spiked shadow, which of course would not harm him. Niklaus also summoned a full suit of spiked armour, including a full covering helmet. "I should thank you for being the better swordsman. You have reminded me why I am the Living Shadow, not the Living Sword."

 

[Count michael]

Kylar and his protective entourage searched amidst the battlefield for any sign of the Skinwolf but they found no sign indicating the beast was even in the area. The Newbloods frantically searched everywhere clearly agitated by the fact that the Skinwolf was able to hide from them. Though a muffled howl seemed to be coming from every direction the vampires were unable to locate it's source gazing fearfully around expecting the beast to jump out at them slightly shaken by what it had done to their comrades.

Suddenly the ground underneath Kylar collapsed as the Skinwolf burst from it's hiding spot dragging the shocked vampire down into the earth, it's sharp claws tearing into the vampires legs. A few the newbloods were close enough that they were dragged under as well being buried under whilst the others reacted slowly trying to come to their leaders aid. Catching the vampire by surprise the beast pulled the shocked vampire in a tight bear hug grip bite seeking to bite chunks out of Kylar with it's razor sharp fangs that made Kylar's pin pricks of fangs pale in comparison. A couple of the newbloods who hadn't fallen into the hole tried stabbing the beast to make it let their master go but the beast just gripped tighter threatening to snap the vampire into two

 

[The Dread King]

Markus threw the small sphere of flame that he had been preparing at the shield, slowing its progress slightly and giving him time to move out of its away. It duly flew past him and then fell to the ground. A grim countenance set itself into his face as he realised that Niklaus had realised what his advantage over the assassin was - and perhaps not too late to defeat Markus. After Niklaus made an attempt to alter the structure of the arena - which, to the assassin's gall, was successful (the shadowmancer's superior magical skill allowing him to dispel Markus' work), Markus spat in defiance, "Hah! The living shadow? I can change that, too!"

The assassin ran with terrifying speed at the shadowmancer, his eyes lighting up with flames reflected by the fire now surrounding his sword. As he slashed his sword at Niklaus in a powerful cut aimed at the Lahmian's chest, the temperature of the ground in the arena started to rapidly rise, and Markus roared, "All that will be left of your pitiful shadows are those cast by your blackened ashes. Now, die by the sword!"

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Kylar was surprised by the ambush. Once again, the werewolf had shown extreme bravado. One would have thought that animal intelligence - survival instinct - would have overcome Mikhail's astounding stupidity. But once again, the werewolf had recklessly charged into battle, seeming to work with the logic that the only defence was offence.

The stupidity would not catch Kylar off guard again. This time, he was going to disprove that flawed logic - for good. The new bloods started to hack at the werewolf, but their strikes were somewhat limited by the werewolf's proximity to their leader. Not so with Kylar. Whilst he was wrapped in a bear hug, he still had some mobility. In the first few seconds of the skin wolf's lethal embrace, the assassin had used that ability to avoid getting bitten more than a few times. However, the injuries were starting to add up...and Kylar's lower arms could still freely move. He twisted his whip, and once again it responded to his will, reforming into the shape of a sharp, silver sword. Just as Mikhail sought to bite him once more, he thrust the sword-whip. It moved sickeningly smoothly in one clean motion, prying its way through the werewolf's ribs, before bursting through the mutant's spine. Kylar withdrew his weapon with a second motion, and, with the help of new bloods hacking at the beasts arms, dragged himself out of the creature's deadly embrace and up into a standing position once more on the ground above. As the six vampires readied themselves for combat once more, they crowded around Mikhail's hole.

Kylar looked disdainfully down at the beast. It had proved a challenge, but the wound he had just inflicted on it would seriously cripple it for a time, if not silver. The silver within his blade was anathema to the skin wolf, just as it was to vampires, and all other unholy creatures. With a second twist of his wrist, the sword transformed into a whip once again, and the battered vampire raised it with a crack into the air. "Down, boy," he snickered. What followed was the swish of the weapon down, into the hole and towards Mikhail.

 

[Count michael]

With an injured howl the Skinwolf leap backwards into the darkness of its tunnel narrowly avoiding the whip though the beast managed to drag one unfortunate new blood kicking and screaming into the dark confines of the tunnel with it. The hole suddenly caved in threatening to drag Kylar in as well as the beast destroyed its tunnel exit preventing any pursuers.


In the darkness of its tunnel the beast feasted consuming the Newblood with ravenous hunger as it sought to recover some of its wounds. Pawing at its chest wound the beasts bared its fangs at the thought of Kylar. Through its superior sense of smell and hearing the beast was able to pinpoint exactly where the vampires were through their vibrations. Nursing its wounds the beast planned its next move

 

[Get of W'soran]

Rikert frowned as Jack took off through the treeline.

"Really? The forest? We're all Squad 2....scouts...all foresters Jack." he thought to himself.

Fitting an arrow to his bow the vampire strode after the madman, he took his time. Jack would only grow weaker from his wounds and there was no reason to discard caution and charge after him.

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A few minutes after Rikert vanished into the trees a pained figure rose to his feet, lifting his fallen bow the wounded vampire limped after the traitor.

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Henrick stepped towards the smouldering form of Sigmund, as he moved closer he could see the defeated vampire was covered in burns and even his armour had been warped by the heat.

"It's over Grandmaster." he said softly and leapt forward in a downward thrust, his rapier swirling with red energy as he infused raw Aqshy into the attack.

Impossibly Sigmund rolled out of the way and came to his feet and threw himself forward with his half-melted sword slashing at the hunter but despite how impressive the show of endurance was Henrick easily avoided the attack and struck Sigmund's longsword with his own rapier. As the two weapon's made contact the arcane energy flowed from the rapier to the damaged longsword causing it to explode in a spectacular fashion. Hot shards of metal deflected harmlessly off the pyromancer's swiftly summoned magical defences but they buried themselves into Sigmund's face freely.

Crying out in pain the injured vampire stumbled back and fell to his knees.

Henrick raised his sword to finish it when the assault happened, his only warning was a shifting of the winds around his summoned flame. The hunter turned in time to see Varelsa come hurtling out of the raging flames his greatsword cutting a deadly swathe through the air as it glowed with green felfire.

Henrick threw himself aside but the huge blade still cut deeply into his side leaving a bloody wound made all the worst by the unnatural flames that burnt on Varelsa's sword. Despite the injury Henrick easily came back to his feet in guard position.

His eyes flickered from the ambassador to the roaring flames and he realised in shock what had happened. The ambassador had literally waited in the roaring flames for his opportunity to attack. The assassin glanced at the massive man's enchanted armour, the runes on which where burning brightly.

"Still...even with that protection..." he thought as he watched Varelsa's burnt features regenerate before his very eyes "Remarkable...but then I shouldn't be so surprised."

Henrick considered his options...in his position Kylar or Markus would have likely charged in for angrily for retribution but Henrick was a veteran of the First War and had not survived so long without understanding the meaning of strategic retreat. He needed time to heal...besides there was easier prey to deal with first.

A pit of shadows appeared beneath the vampire's feet and he sunk into it, shadow-stepping away.


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Varelsa let out a sigh of relief as Henrick vanished and drove the tip of his blade into the ground, leaning on the weapon. He had focused on his regenerative abilities so as the flames couldn't reduce him to ash but even then it had been damnably painful.

The ambassador walked over to Sigmund whilst incantations of mending forming in his mind.

"No!" snarled Sigmund as the knight pushed himself to his feet "Help...the others...I'll live." he barked a laugh "Takes more...than...that."

Varelsa hesitated before nodding and looking around to see where his best chance was.

Niklaus seemed fine and had summoned some sort of shadow wall to enclose his fight. "Smart, keep the new bloods from ganging up on him."

It was then that Varelsa heard the pained cry of a beast and noticed the Skin-Wolf had been hurt by Kylar.

"So he did change." he thought to himself "Poor mortal."

Distinguishing the green flames on his sword Varelsa took off as quick as he could whilst running to the side of the battlefield to avoid confronting the New Bloods. Hopefully Kylar would be distracted enough trying to get to the Wolfman that it would give him a good opportunity to attack.

 

[Count Vashra]

"Oh, you really think so?" Niklaus asked almost casually, pleased with his success at transforming the ring of fire into a ring of shadow, both isolating the combatants from any help from traitor assassins - the shadows would allow his allies through, if any arrived - and providing an extra opportunity to hurt the Pyromancer, though not one his enemy was likely to be slow or foolish enough to present.
With his confidence restored by the shadow wall, Niklaus waved his armoured hand at his enemy's sword, attempting to extinguish the flames on his sword. Immediately after doing so, he Shadow-merged some distance backwards, not wanting to experiment with how tough his shadow armour really was yet. He felt the temperature rising, and guessed the Pyromancer was trying to kill him through prolonged exposure to heat, which of course the Pyromancer himself would not feel.
Considering his next moved, Niklaus reached with his right hand. Shadows appeared around the Pyromancer. When he clenched his fist, they coalesced around him, hopefully trapping him and leaving him vulnerable to further attacks.
In his other hand, he made a small hand crossbow, already loaded, and fired. Normally he was not greatly skilled with ranged weapons, but this close to his target his lack of skill would be greatly nullified.

 

[Count Magpyr]

A huge explosion engulfed Kithan and his entourage, the wight king shrieked and then vanished in an eruption of earth and green tinged smoke. Meanwhile his ethereal companions flickered, faded and died.
Moments later a huge white flare lit up the tree line and briefly out lined the silhouette of the traitorous crossbow assassin scuttling off into the undergrowth. He didn't get very far.

Greetings cockroach murmured the Lord of Ivrel as he stepped out from behind a tree. I finally managed to triangulate your position with your last outburst and now there must be an accounting. The agile assassin attempted to dodge back into the undergrowth while releasing a volley of lethal bolts from his trusty bow. It never happened. Bracketed as he was by the two huge spirit cats the vampire was unable to flee. One caught him round the ear with a talon tipped paw the size of a plate, while the other ripped the crossbow out of his hands before it could be fired, smashing it with a second blow. The Wight gestured and a torrent of barbed vines poured from the earth. The desperate assassin tried to wither the spiked canes, but to no avail. Fool tolled the voice of the wight. You're dead, I'm dead, even before this battle started the dead outnumbered the living. Do you really think I would spend time and energy learning to control living plants? These are the Roisen Dubh, spirit roses and I have spent n age and a half unlocking their secrets. The thorns now piercing your body will hold you in place while.... A bud opened before the terrified assassin's eyes. Petals unfurled, a red so deep that all but the most observant would call it black. Even while he gazed at the rose, Sieghard noticed a delicate silver filigree like a frost glimmering and gleaming on the petal edges. The anxiety faded out of Sieghard's eyes as he himself and the cocoon of briars also faded and disappeared from view.

 

[The Dread King]

Kylar narrowly avoided falling into the beast's pit - a new blood caught his arm and stopped his descent. The entrance to its tunnel then collapsed. Kylar barked an order to his remaining four assassins: "Spread out and find the other entrance to that tunnel of his! He must have dug in from somewhere...when we find it, we will corner him as a group, and he will have nowhere to run." Without hesitating, the five assassins (Kylar included) set off, glancing at each other occasionally to make sure that no ambush had been sprung upon any of the remaining brothers, and studying the earth for signs of recent upheaval - which could indicate the entrance to the skin wolf's makeshift den.

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Markus was infuriated by Niklaus' ability to shadow-merge. This had allowed him to escape the pyromancer's thrust; the flames on his blade dimmed significantly, but did not quite go out. As the coalescing shadows encased the assassin, a muffled, struggling cry could be heard from within them. The arrow sped towards its target. From within the shadows, the blade glimmered faintly. At first, there was nothing - no sound, no sight. But a skilled mage saw the winds roaring violently around Markus. And then, his spellcasting paid off.

With great effort, the shadows that had encased Markus were blasted out, and away, and the bolt sailing towards him was burnt to a crisp. The rising temperature had culminated in a massive firestorm swirling around Markus. Literally fuming, he bellowed, "The light of the flames will cast out the shadows! And nothing shall stand before the furnace!" As his spellcasting reached its brutal nadir, Markus hid the almighty strain he felt with a maniacal cackle. He pointed his sword to the ground, and then struck it, with the words, "BY FIRE BE PURGED!"

From under Niklaus' feet came a rumbling. Only one thing followed this: a gargantuan inferno erupting upwards from the ground. Markus redoubled his physical effort and leapt at the shadowmancer even as the plume of flame shot up. He could afford few spells of such power any more in his current state, and the shadowmancer's superior magic was taking its toll on him. However, he still remained physically advantaged, and he intended to make full use of this.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Varelsa used as much cover as he possibly could but he was a very big man in full plate armour with a sword almost as large as himself so there only really was a certain level of "stealthiness" that he could achieve. Luckily for the ambassador Kylar and his group of New Bloods had broken off slightly from the main pack and had decided to concern themselves with finding Mikhails underground hidey hole.

Varelsa waited for the assassins to glance around and return to their work before rising up and striding swiftly towards them, the sound of his footfall at this distance being covered by the sound of fighting. When he was relatively close the ambassador charged at Kylar and his underlings, when in range he slid to a stop and slashed his greatword in a massive arc aimed at not only Kylar but the New Bloods closest to Varelsa.

As the huge weapon blurred through the air the green felfire burst back into existence to envelop the blade.

 

[Count Vashra]

Niklaus was disappointed the shadow encasement had not worked, but smiled at how the Pyromancer had responded. it vindicated his forswearing of emotion. In this case, the Pyromancer's anger at what had seemed a relatively easy fight was causing him to explode and cast massive spells, draining his energy.
Then he felt a rumbling, and blinked. He stumbled a massive pillar of flame raised him up, and recovered his balance just as the Pyromancer landed in front of him. Increasing the strength of his armour where the pillar touched it and thjinking that he would be sweating now, he manouvered around a few sword strikes, and then Shadow-merged to behind him. Niklaus saw they were almost above the shadow wall, and with the second he had before his enemy turned clasped his hands above his head, dragging shadow into a spiked roof.
"I'm glad you could rise to the occasion," he said, baring his fangs. Then he did something which he thought would be totally unexpected: he grabbed the Pyromancer's sword, using his gauntlet to extinguish the flames, and then hissed as the last of the flames burned his exposed hand. He made a shadow pillar next to the flame pillar, and Shadow-merged onto it, reappearing with a new gauntlet.
"I would love to keep fighting, but this must end now." He clapped his hands together, and the spikes on the now-shadow dome, including the new ones on the roof, flew from their places, new spikes replacing them, towards the Pyromancer. Finally, Niklaus made a lift gesture with his hand, causing his own pillar to rise at the same rate as the Pyromancer's. "Can you rise to the occasion?"
If the Pyromancer wanted to maintain equal height, he would hav e to keep rising. Which would bring him towards the spikes on the roof, necessitating he not only dispel the dozens flying towards him now, but to dispel the roof long enough to rise safely. If he did that, Niklaus had another trick in mind. it was all about splitting the Pyromancer's attention, trying to give him as much to think about as possible, which was what was at the heart of Shadowmancy, really.

 

[Count Magpyr]

Prince Kithan gazed across the battlefield, finally the council seemed to be gaining the upper hand. There were only a scattering of newbloods left now, Niklaus was shadow-foxing the pyromancer into a shade, while Varelsa and the skinwolf were closing in on dance-master Kylar. Kithan sent out an abrupt mental command and the central black coach rumbled into life, thundering across the glade while the wraith on board lashed out with his scythe. The novice assassins were caught by surprise and yet more fell before the carriage burst free of their tattered ranks and reached the Lord of Ivrel. Using Mesmer to cut the leather tethers, Kithan released the nightmares and swung up one's back. Once more the ball of green balefire flamed into life, the banshees returning home to be replaced with a unit of shrieking hexwraiths. With Kithan and the spectral cats at their head, the unit charged on to the field, sweeping the surviving newbloods before them. Behind them galloped the remaining three nightmares ridden as a troika, by their wraith coachman. Their numbers decimated and with no surviving command structure, the individual vampires were easy targets for the wight lord and his cavalry. Here and there the vampires broke, their innate, selfish, survival instincts kicking in. As the council had demonstrated only too well, it went against all vampiric instinct to work as together as a group and the remaining assassins were broken now, running like lone wolves, each only thinking of his own survival.

 

[The Dread King]

Faint voices screamed at the back of Sieghard's mind, but they went unheard. In his confused state, althought he knew it was all over, he was not disturbed by the prospect of oblivion. He started to sink into a deep, eternal sleep...

"I think not."

With these words, Henrick, who had shadow-stepped to his subordinate's position, interrupted the killing pricess. The efforts of the thorns were then completely thwarted by a few deft sword strokes made by the senior assassin. Looking at the now wide-eyed and relieved crossbowman, Henrick wasted no time in issuing orders. "Find and finish that troublesome Council crossbowman. I'll deal with the wight," he said, his voice tinted with contempt at Kithan s arrogance.

Sieghard nodded and stalked off to find an ideal location from which to shoot at Odric, should he evade the assassin's previous round of bolts. Henrick made his way towards the location of Kithan's carriage.

The wight and his entourage had been too busy ploughing down new bloods to reconsider their own arrogance. They had been foolish to ignore Henrick when he had made his presence known earlier in the battle. And now, the assassin resolved, they would pay for their negligence.

Stepping towards the carriage as he chanelled spells of tremendous power, Henrick only stopped to raise an open palm at it as it trundled past him on its bloody course. A jet of fire so hot and bright that it seemed, from a distance, to be nothing but a beam of light, shot forth from his palm, smashing into the carriage with devastating impact. Like a beast that had died an unexpected and instant death, it lurched forth and toppled over, throwing all of its passengers to the ground. Ruthlessly continuing in his fiery rampage, Henrick silently began to set about decimating the hexwraiths that surrounded the fallen carriage; one duo found themselves trapped in a rapidly shrinking cage of arcane flame. As it encroached on them, their ethereal forms started to singe at their edges, before being ripped back into the underworld by the sheer amount of damage that the prison had inflicted on them. The wight's puppets shall go first, the pyromancer decided, and then he and I will have our reckoning. This day shall be a precedent set for the future; an example of what it means to cross this order. It means nothing but painful, agonising death.

 

[The Dread King]

What do you do if you can't win? This is a question that permeates every soldier's life. It is not so much a question on formal military strategy - for it is assumed that all feasible paths to victory have been exhausted by the time of the asking of this query -but a philosophical one. One would not remotely expect for it to be remembered in the heat of battle. However, Markus briefly considered it, before dismissing it with another thought. Failure was not an option.

With a grunt of effort - he could not afford to waste time and energy on speech now - the pyromancer dispelled the spikes on the roof of the arena and subsequently shadow-stepped off his pillar. Whilst this helped him to largely avoid the shadow spikes heading towards his original position, some managed to score a few small marks in his face, torso and legs before he could escape them.

What do you do if you can't win? The answer to this perplexing question was in fact one of the key lessons of the order: Cheat.

When Markus reappeared, he did so silently and in a presumably unexpected location. That is, on top of Niklaus' pillar of shadow, bringing his burning blade down at the shadowmancer in a decapitating strike launched from behind him.

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Kylar, absorbed in his search, only heard Varelsa's blade as it swung towards him, and desperately threw himself back, withdrawing from the attack with a hiss and a fresh cut on his arm that burned more than all of the fires in Usirian's realm (or so the assassin would believe).

The assassin nearby him was not so fortunate. This new blood simply collapsed into a blood-coated, screaming heap before disintegrating within the shocking space a few tantalising seconds.

As the other three new bloods looked up to witness the attack made by Varelsa, Kylar grimaced. The game had changed, and the ambassador was involved. There was no shrinking from the strigoi: there was noone to run to, and Kylar would find no quarter from the council.

Smiling menacingly in a desperate attempt to raise new blood morale, Kylar rasped at Varelsa, "Two beasts; one whip. My brothers, it's time to put this Triumvirate dog back in its place." The uncertainty and fear that had been eating away at the new bloods' resolve was dismissed with these words, and the three younger vampires charged at Varelsa, each from a different angle, whilst Kylar slashed with his whip at the ambassador. As he did so, he used small amounts of necromancy to invigorate and enhance his comrades to a small - but significant - degree.

 

[Count Vashra]

Niklaus wondered for a second where the Pyromancer had gone, until he felt the burning sword slice into his neck armour. By the time he managed to Shadow-merge, his armour had been pierced (not that this mattered, as he would regenerate it when he reformed) and the back of his neck had been cut. Not deeply, but enough to hurt, bleed and feel hot. Almost enough to make him gasp. He reappeared, fully armoured once more, on the ground, and dismissed his shadow pillar, causing the Pyromancer to begin falling from a considerable height. At the end of his fall he would be greeted by an array of spikes. As his enemy fell, Niklaus summoned shadowy versions of lightning bolts in his hands and threw them. The form was more for show than anything - they would have the same effect as shadow spears. Once the shadow bolts left his hand he made as if to reach for the Pyromancer, and a giant hand of shadow materialised, reaching in perfect symphony with its maker. If the spikes and bolts didn't get him, maybe a crushing hand was. As he did so, he felt blood trickling down his neck. The wound was not deep, but it had been flaming, and had done more damage than its shallowness would suggest. The loss of energy was minor, but he had to avoid more cuts.

 

[Count michael]

In turning their attention towards Varelsa the vampires had foolishly left themselves wide open to the Skinwolf which was still lurking beneath them within it's underground hidey hole. It had been confused at first that the vampire had started attacking the others though it's bestial mind recognised it's scent as being different from the others almost more familiar. Whilst the beast couldn't be bothered helping a vampire normally it's animal cunning made it realise that the accursed one with the whip would be distracted dealing with this newcomer so the beast could have it's payback.

Extremely pleased with itself the Skinwolf padded through it's tunnel to directly where Kylar was standing, just as the vampire attacked Varelsa the beast's talon shot up from the ground digging into Kylars legs. With an bestial howl the skinwolf threw Kylar backwards knocking him over which caused his whip to completely miss Varelsa swinging into one of the Newbloods wrapping around the newblood burning it horribly.

Slavering in anticipation the beast lunged out of the ground tackling into one of the newbloods whose resolve was brutally shattered as their fear of the beast once again took hold with it's sudden appearance. Whilst the Skinwolf would of preferred mauling Kylar once again, it was still weak from the previous encounter and need much more flesh if it was to fully heal which the tasty newbloods offered perfectly without much of a fight like Kylar was. After ripping into the screaming newblood's chest and feasting upon it the beast rose to it's feet it's wounds sizzling as it's mutated form slowly began to regenerate. Snarling in rage the beast glared at Kylar as he recovered from his fall whilst the unharmed newblood stood in shock as it watched it's comrade burning and screaming as it was tangled in Kylar's silver whip

 

[Count Magpyr]

Repeating the stratagem that the cats had used so successfully at the council meeting and coincidently mirroring the skinwolf's approach, Prince Kithan, Tangris and Bashees used the confusion, smoke and explosion caused by the pyromancer's attack to sink into the soil and move like sharks towards their prey. In an explosion of rocks, thorns, claws and blade, all drenched in the mind numbing fog of the Roisen Dubh, they crushed the impudent pyromancer. Spectral claws and fangs shredded Henrick's body, bypassing any armour to gouge huge slashes in his flesh. Meanwhile the emerald fog intensified clouding his mind, numbing his responses. Ebon blooms winked in rosy humour as the fell Liche appeared before him, blade upraised. All was dark, distant and oh so cold. The grey blade of Mesmer shimmered, causing more confusion in the mind of the arrogant wizard. Henrick stretched out a hand in desperate entreaty, but to no avail. The wight struck, severing the arm at the elbow. The mesmerising opals on the silver crown flared as ancient, corrupted magics from the dawn of recorded time were cast. The spikes of venomous thorns wrapped his legs, icy pain in chest and torso, the pure agony of his arm and now the dreadful, dry rat's gnawing at his mind, if only he could think! But he couldn't. Mesmer's disquieting glow, the torpid fumes and the swirling gems, all combined to further confuse and weaken Henrick, his precious blood falling to the floor to be absorbed by the thirsty thorns. The spectral claws cut again and again, slicing through his belts, so that all his equipment spilt out on to the frozen ground to disappear beneath leafless thorns. Mesmer's tip sliced into one of Henrick's eyeballs and rested momentarily on the socket. Through the pain and the agony, through the debilitating cold and confusion, the last, curled up kernel of self heard a single word 'YIELD'
The sphere of viridian mist tightened round the combatants. All that any other could see from the battlefield, was a gargantuan green swirled pearl, its nacreous surface shrinking, yet hardening with each passing second. The spells assailing the hexwraiths had all flickered and died and the survivors, led by the scythe wielding wraith were successfully removing the last of the newbloods. One, braver than the rest, evaded the deadly ethereals and rushed forward to assail the pearl. As soon as he touched it's glowing surface all thought of aim, task, loyalty even self fled his mind and he slumped nerveless to the ground.

 

[The Dread King]

Kylar cried out in pain as Mikhail ambushed him by digging into his legs, but recovered from his subsequent fall with speed, turning what might have been a painful descent into a roll and a rise to standing stature. After rising, however, he was met with the discouraging sight of his minions dying and in disarray.

Whilst the beast fed on the unfortunate new blood, Kylar, having rushed over to the vampire entangled in his weapon - which rendered it near useless - and his unharmed assistant did their utmost to help the screaming new blood untangle itself from the whip. Despite its discipline, it squirmed within the confines of the silver blades, only making the handler's job harder. Chain after chain was gingerly - but rapidly, of course - unwound, and the weapon was hastily prized from the new blood's body wherever it had bitten into it. Reluctant as the superior was to spend time aiding his servants instead of defending himself, Kylar would be effectively disarmed until he removed his subordinate from his weapon. He had only just finished when the skin wolf had finished its meal.

"Finish the beast!" the handler barked at his two subordinates, one still gritting its teeth in the pain inflicted on it by the handler's whip. The demoralised assassins hesitated for a second, but Kylar was having none of it. "NOW!" he shouted, raising his whip as he did so. Eager to avoid the crack of the whip, the two flanked Mikhail, one on either side, eager to finish off the main beast.

The handler had a different job to attend to; he turned to his other adversary, once again slashing his whip at Varelsa's midsection. "Now, where were we?" he sneered.


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As Niklaus' pillar of shadow collapsed underneath him, Markus was quick to react, leaping towards his pillar of arcane flame. Though fire was dangerous to all vampires, in this instance Markus' own magic would not harm the pyromancer if he did not let it get out of control. It was questionable whether the hunter would even reach the edge of the pillar at all (from which he could find a handhold and pull himself on top of the pillar), given the distance between the collapsing shadow column and his own (a distance of height and length).

His unexpected leap forwards (instead of a simple descent) meant that he was able to largely avoid the bolts of darkness heading towards him, although one glanced off his sword, one opened a small cut in his lower leg and a third slashed his shoulder slightly. The jump had, of course, displaced him from the spikes below him, and with a grunt of determination, Markus latched onto his flaming column before lifting himself with his arms onto it. Even as he tried to rise to full height, the shadowy hand grasped about him; his attempt to prepare himself for an attack was precisely what left him open to that attack. For a few terrifying moments, it squeezed him, and he could feel the pressure begin to build within his body as his bones creaked, only moments from breaking.

The small flecks of shadow that made up the hand quickly dispersed, however, as the licking flames of the pillar ate away at the fist. Markus was left aching, disorientated and determined to have his revenge.

Regaining his composure, he collapsed his pillar to mirror Niklaus, but as it fell before completely dissipating into nothingness, the assassin leapt from it, swinging his blade forwards and downwards as he came hurtling towards his foe.

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A long, but bloody, trail betrayed Jack's location to Rikert. It appeared that in his desperation he'd attempted to find cover in the forest from which to spring a surprise attack, but his preparations were in vain. A small, subtle - but detectable - trail of blood from his wounds led to a very tall tree in a grove. 'Jack' waited for Rikert to walk past his position in search of him, before swinging at him with his enchanted, two-handed axe.

Behind another nearby tree, the real Captain Jack Dixen waited. He had laboriously squeezed drops of his ichor from his wounds into his hands, scattering small - noticeable to the trained eye, but not suspiciously obvious - droplets of blood towards a simple illusion. Meanwhile, having made his misleading progress through the forest as quickly as he could, he had been careful to cover the tracks to his own location. He readied his axe, and grinned. When Rikert arrived preparing to kill, no doubt having tracked a being that did not even exist, the captain would be ready...

 

[Get of W'soran]

Varelsa's blade was still moving, the continuous windmill motions of his blade slashing out in all directions keeping the blade's momentum going and as such it's speed constantly high.

As the whip cracked out the ambassador's blade slashed low to intercept however instead of stopping the attack it simply weakened the blow so that it struck harmlessly against his enchanted plate armour.

"Damnable weapon, I don't think I've fought against a whip before...hardly the most usual tool of war." he thought to himself with annoyance.

Trying to take advantage of the delay before the whip could retract for another lash Varelsa leapt forward, his huge sword a blur as it descended on Kylar's head.


---------------------------

Rikert followed the blood trail carefully, moving as silently as he was able whilst keeping his hunter's senses open to the possibility of a trap or ambush. However it seemed that was a wasted effort as he saw Jack a short distance away.

Keeping himself obscured by a tree the assassin stepped out a swiftly loosed a plain silver arrow at the other vampire.