It was something of a drizzly evening in Estolad, as a moderately slow-falling but ever-constant downpour of rain hit the small village, dribbling down the thatched rooves of the houses to gather in vast puddles of water and mud in the streets. It was the kind of evening in which most people would prefer to have stayed indoors, gathered round the fire, with only a few braving the miserable weather to head down to the local inn for their daily bout of mead and gossip. The Inn itself had something of a vast fire within its walls, keeping its customers warm, and more importantly, able to buy more drinks.
Unfortunately for those in the service of the Realm, such pleasantries were not offered to them.
Sir Kingsley Oakenwood of Estolad, the second-eldest child of one of Arda's aristocratic families, had been charged with heading the nightly patrols of Estolad's militia that miserable evening, having lost the game of lots with his two brothers which made the decision. He was now marching down Estolad's main road with his cloak wrapped around him, the dampness from the rain causing it to cling to closely to his body, accompanied by six men of the militia. Their only task for the next six hours was to patrol the village and keep an eye out for any trouble brewing in the streets, which on an evening such as this, was likely to only come from the drunken patrons of the Inn finally being told to go home by the innkeeper. It was a menial task for a Knight, as far as Sir Kingsley was concerned, but also a neccessary one. He knew that, in time, he would rise to a more prominent position in society, a position which would grant him more responsibility in enforcing the laws of the Realm against more worthy troublemakers than drunken villagers.
As he and the six men under his command made their way past the Inn, Sir Kingsley caught sight of the moonlight reflecting off of the shining metal of a blade in the alleyway that ran between the Inn and the building next to it. Turning to look down the alleyway, the Knight could see a figure holding a knife with his back to the militiamen and crouching over a second figure which was lying on the ground motionless. With one glance at the motionless body, and another at the knife, Sir Kingsley came to the conclusion instantly,

Murder

With this revelation, the Knight of the Realm reacted in the first way that came to his mind as his men drew their swords,

"I say there!" He called out to the figure with the knife, who spun round immediately to face the militiamen at the mouth of the alleyway, "Step away from that person and drop that knife you've got there!"

The figure stepped away from the motionless body, but did not drop the knife. Instead, the figure moved a step closer to the militiamen, so that the moonlight shone down to reveal that it was an incredibly pale-faced man dressed entirely in black, and who had the unmistakeable liquid that was blood dripping from the edges of his lips. As the realisation of what he was facing hit him, Sir Kingsley took a step backwards, and the militiamen did the same. Drawing his two-handed longsword from the scabbard that hung across his back, Sir Kingsley held it upwards in a threatening pose as his men pointed their blades towards the pale-faced figure before them.

"Is that what I think it is?" Uttered one of the men in fear.

"Yes, Mr Durgan," Sir Kingsley replied to the soldier, his upper-class accent ringing even in times of danger, "It is."

A Vampire

The pale-faced figure, which was indeed one of the blood-drinking vampires, gave the soldiers a grin which exposed his blood-drenched fangs, before leaping into the air without warning, but with great speed. Sir Kingsley thanked the Heavens for his years of combat training, which allowed him to move out of the way in time to avoid a slash from the vampire's knife as the creature of the night landed where the Knight had previously been stood. Counter-attacking with his own sword, Sir Kingsley found the blow parried by the vampire, who quickly ducked down to avoid strikes from two of the militiamen, who were repaid for their efforts by receiving stabs to the stomach from the undead creature's blade.
As the two militiamen fell down, blood spilling from their torsos, Sir Kingsley and the remaining four soldiers launched their assault upon the creature. The legends that they had all heard of vampiric agility and speed seemed to them to be true as the vampire outmanouevered them all except Sir Kingsley, who held his own against the undead figure's brutal assault, whilst countering with his own at the same time. Though the vampire managed to score a slash against the Sir Kingsley's left arm, the creature soon paid for its attack when the Knight used the opportunity to stab his mighty two-handed sword into the vampire's side, sending the blade stabbing through the side of blood-drinker's rib-cage and into its heart. Clutching the wound in rage and pain, and making a sound that reminded Sir Kingsley of someone drowning, the vampire immediately fell back, away from the Knight, before attempting to retreat down to the end of the alleyway.
It did not make it that far, however, for as soon as it had taken two of three steps it fell to the ground, continuing to make the gurgling sounds until its body suddenly disintegrated, leaving nothing but dust behind. Somewhat shaken by the unexpected encounter, Sir Kingsley turned to look at the body that the vampire had originally been feasting upon. Recognising it as one of the local 'entertaining ladies', the Knight shook his head at the violent fate that had befallen the woman, before turning to check on his two fallen militiamen.
He did not need to look long to see that they were both dead from their fatal wounds.
Turning to the remaining four militiamen, Sir Kingsley said to them in his formal, but nonetheless firm, voice,

"This night is not over yet, gentlemen. There could very well be more of those creatures about in the village. Mr Durgan, return to the barracks-house and tell Captain Ilmo that I want two more patrols sent out. Mr Huln, you are to tell the other patrols throughout the village, as well as the men at the gates, about what has happened tonight, and tell them to be on extra-alert. Mr Sloan and Mr Teal, come with me."

The Knight then dismissed the soldiers named Durgan and Huln, who ran off to carry out the orders that they had been given, whilst Sir Kingsley continued down the roads of Estolad with the last two militiamen, now doubly-alert for anymore creatures terrorizing the village that night.....

Rain pelted the side of the darkly-dressed man, slipping through his cloak and dampening his clothing. A wide-brimmed hat, black like his cloak, sat atop his head and shielded his head from the rain, dripping with cold, miserable water. Evenings like these were best spent laying in the tavern under a warm blanket and basking under the light of a toasty fire. It was dark enough to be nighttime with all the clouds, so why even bother getting up? The man walked at an easy pace through the town, his heavy boots squishing the mud beneath them and leaving large footprints, each soon filling with rain water. He had felt something. There was a creature- perhaps a group of them- that currently resided in this town. Movement caught his attention and he glanced to the alley at his side. A dark figure knelt in the trash and barrels that lines the alley. And then it was gone. The man was not taken back by this- he knew what the creature was. There would be no surprises here tonight.

The demonhunter pulled his crimson scarf tighter around his mouth and chin, his multicolored eyes peering into a dark building beside him. There was a crack on the window, and a small trace of some liquid. He drew his sword from the sheath at his side and stalked closer to the building. When he reached the window, he saw the liquid was blood. Just a smudge of red on the window, but blood nonetheless. Here was the start of his adventure. Sartana moved to the door and opened it quickly, paying little attention to keeping himself hidden and even less to being quiet. Vampires were strong, quick, and above all else alert. There was no sense wasting time trying to move silently. Inside the man stopped just before a body on the hardwood floors. Blood soaked the wood. Sartana pulled his scarf down and held his sword low to his side, shifting his feet into a balanced, defensive stance. Scraping could be heard and the cracking of something that sounded like bones. The demonhunter didn't need to hear the creature- he knew it was there already.

His boot send the cheap wooden door crashing down onto the floor of the room. The room had once been a bedroom, but not anymore. It was trashed and splatters of blood now decorated the walls of the room, limbs strewn over the furniture and a lone torso of a man resting on the carpet in front of him. A flash form the corner of his eye brought Sartana's sword up horizontally, parrying the wide slash sent towards him, aimed to slice him in half. A gaunt, wiry man stood atop a bed to the demonhunter's side holding a curved shortsword and wearing all black. It's clothing glistened with blood. Sartana wasted no time. He rushed forward, catching the creature off-guard with such offense, tipping his sword low and thrusting it into the creature's gut. It screeched and sent it's blade just over the man's shoulder, barely missing him. Sartana spun around, dislodging his now bloodied sword and kicking out the vampire's legs from beneath him. As the creature fell it grabbed the demonhunter and tossed him against a dresser. He broke through the cheap wood and hit the wall with a thump. The vampire recovered quickly and jumped through a window to the side of the room, making it's way through the alley and escaping. Sartana rose as quickly as his sore body would allow him and made his way to the broken window. He stuck his head out the window, but the creature was gone. The demonhunter punched out a fragment of glass from the window in his anger and looked at the room around him. A dead woman lay on the bed. She could have drowned in her own blood, there was so much. Sartana shook his head. He would need to report this to the town guard, if there even was one. Who protected these people?

He made his way out of the battle-torn house and back into the rain outside. He let the raindrops clean off his bloody sword and thought of his battle with the vampire. The demonhunter was not used to battling the creatures, though he had fought them before. He was trained to combat demons- this was his true forte. Still, he was an upholder of justice and protector of the week, so upon sensing a strong evil in this town, he couldn't help but leave his treetop resting place and come to town. These vampires were mere cohorts for a stronger vampire- the demonhunter knew this much. Vampires originated on the ethereal plane of existence, wherein the dead live their undeath in an eternal limbo.

Sartana sheathed his now-clean sword and began walking again. He had never been to this town before, so he had no clue where the local barracks was. He assumed the town had a militia at least, but where would it be? He turned his head as a shadow moved beside him and disappeared. There wasn't a moment to lose. He unsheathed his sword again and stalked through the dimly-lit town.

"Sir Kingsley! Sir Kingsley!"

These words were being yelled out into the rain-soaked night as the militiaman known as Mr Huln raced down one of Estolad's dampened streets towards where an old battered stone water-well stood. Next to the well was the Knight Sir Kingsley Oakenwood and two more members of the militia, all three of whom had span round the second they had heard the calls of their fellow law enforcer, the Knight even raising the sword he had grasped between his gloved hands. He relaxed slightly when he saw that the calls came from one of those under his command, but the aristocratic Knight remained wary in any case,

"What is it, Huln? And keep your voice down for goodness sake man, do you want to wake up the entire town?" Sir Kingsley snapped sharply, his voice deep with the tones of the upper-classes.

"Sorry sir," The militiaman Huln replied in a whisper, as he came to a halt in front of Sir Kingsley, "But I thought you should know sir, that one of the other patrols was ambushed near the bakery. Three dead and two mortally wounded, sir. Only one survivor who might make it."

"An entire patrol?!" Sir Kingsley didn't miss a heartbeat at the news, but he was still certainly taken aback somewhat, "Who was the survivor?"

"Sergeant Bronn, sir," Huln told the Knight, "He took a nasty blow to the leg, but he might make it. Captain Ilmo is at the barracks-house with him now, sir, asking him what happened."

"Good lord," Sir Kingsley said, more to himself than anyone else, "There must be an entire group - a pack even - of these creatures loose in the town. What of the other patrols, Mr Huln?"

"The other two patrols are intact, sir, but the men are shaken by the news of the two vampire incidents sir."

"Well of course they're shaken, that's to be expected," Sir Kingsley replied briskly, before ordering the militiaman, "Mr Huln, I want you to make your way to the inn and see if there are any people there with....specialities in combating this kind of threat. Go!"

The militiaman saluted his commander swiftly before rushing off into the night, soon disappearing from view into the clouds of fog that had begun to descend upon the town of Estolad. Not liking how the events of the night were going, Sir Kingsley and the two soldiers with him began making their way down another street, their weapons at the ready and their senses alert to spot the slightest of movements, sights or sounds. For a short while the only sound they could hear distinctly was the sound of the rainwater hitting their blades, until the sound of heavy-booted feet squelching in the mud-and-rain-ridden roads of Estolad caused the three of them to halt suddenly and face off into the fog.
Not wasting a second, and not wanting to risk another vampiric ambush, Sir Kingsley took two steps forward in the direction of the footsteps and, pointing his sword in the same direction, called out in his posh voice,

"I say, who goes there? Friend or foe?"

Umbra journied across the roofs of Estolad. The rain matted her hair to her back and shoulders making it hard for her to comfortably move. The lanterns were struggling to stay alight while the air around them was moist with rain. Her long sleeves were stuck to her arms as she crouched and ran across a roof to jump to the next one. The night was clear even though it was raining which she liked. The rain was something that helped her continue, she thought of the healing rain stories Marakitu told on stormy nights back when she lived in the village. The block ended so she lept off the roof and landed easily in a crouch. Suddenly the air around her was filled with a smell. Blood. she thought as she got up and analized the scent. It was nearby, and it was that of a human. She looked over at an alley and saw the bodies but breathed a sigh of releif when she realized it was not who she feared. "Kieraline please make Tanya stay in tonight. I fear for her safety, don't let the thought of adventur run right over reason." she prayed aloud as the blood mixed with rain water.

She continued on her way, she had given up on the thought of using smells to guide her from her foes for the rain washed everything away. But she also knew that it would be hard for whoever was out on a murder spree to find her if they relied on smell for she had been out since the rain started, her scent would be long gone. She continued to walk on the roads watching for danger. She gave a mental groan when she realized it was begining to form a fog. She continued through the night when she heard someone. "I say, who goes there? Friend or foe?" the voice demanded. She paused. Guards. she thought as she continued. Soon they came clearly into view. "That would depend on your point of view, Sir. To some I am a friend, others a foe. My saying would not mean anything if I turned out to be the opposite in your eyes. But if you wish to know if I am a danger to you, then be calm for I am no threat. she replied her eyes watched them as he held his sword in front of him. She let her arms rest instead of going to her dagger at her side.

Sir Kingsley kept his sword pointed at the young woman before him, even though she claimed to be of no threat. Her calm demeanour when faced with the swords of three of Estolad's warriors disturbed the Knight slightly, as most people who resided in the village would immediately become nervous and pelt the soldiers with stories and tales of how they could not possibly be guilty of any crime. This woman seemed a little too calm for Sir Kingsley's liking, and he made this clear when he took a step forward, whilst still having his blade trained on her torso, ready to strike if neccessary. The Knight did, however, maintain the manners and etiquette that had been drilled into him as a boy, and he showed this as he said to the woman before him,

"I say, dear woman, what is a young lady such as yourself doing out here at this time of night?"

Even though he spoke these words politely enough, and he seemed to have his eyes fixed upon the woman, the Knight was in fact maintaining a constant vigilance for anything that might leap out at them from the many places in the streets of Estolad that were cloaked in shadow, and thus, a perfect place for would-be enemies to take refuge.

Something isn't right about this, the Knight thought to himself, What would a young lady be doing out at this time of night, alone and unescorted? And why is she so darn calm when I've been forced to put my sword almost at her throat.

His gentlemanly personna gnawed away at his cautious judgement as he berated himself mentally for raising his blade to a member of the fairer gender, but he realised that he couldn't allow such small formalities to come in the way of his job of protecting Estolad when there was the threat of a vampire infestation within the town. Deciding to compromise, the Knight lowered his blade, but beckoned for one of the two militiamen with him to take his place, raising their own blade towards the woman in order to remain vigilant.

Rayn al Boha ex-thief once known as Rayn The Rat walked an ally with a young lady who had asked him to walk her home. Rayn was a nineteen year old who looked older then he was. He was searching for a new path in life as a Knight. So when a young beautiful woman needed escorting home he didn't need to be asked twice to help her. The rain was pelting down from above and Rayn's black curly hair was sticking to his head.

The young firey haired lady he was with was also rather wet and her clothes stuck to her in a most sexy fashion, Rayn couldn't help but try to hide his almost boyish smile as he walked along side her. He looked around the ally. After being a famous theif in the guild of thieves you would think I would feel at home in an allyway... But no... This ally seems to be getting worse and worse... Rayn thought looking behind him. The ally was tight, long and rather empty, he rested his hand on his sword hilt and looked around once more. "My lady we should hurry up, it is late, raining and you seem to be taking your time. Where exactly do you live?" Rayn asked with a smile.

The young woman who looked to be around the age of twenty herself stopped walking. She smiled showing nice white teeth. Her blue eyes seemed to shine in the moonlight. "Rayn, young Knight. I live only around the corner..." She said and touched Rayn's inner leg. Rayn nearly jumped into air as her move was so unexpected. "Ok my lady, I will escort you there so you can be out of this rain before you catch a cold." Rayn said sharply.

She smiled looking into Rayn's eyes. Rayn found himself looking back. Wow she is rather beatiful... A little bit pale looking at the moment... But yes beatiful... He found himself thinking. Before he knew it, his lips were locked with hers and he was kissing, passion filled his mind. Well she is a little bit forward... He thought. He opened his eyes after a little bit of kissing and saw that she also had her eyes open. Rayn automatically pushed her. Her back hit the wall with a thud. The young woman's beatiful blue eye's were now a bright red colour. She laughed evily showing long white fangs.

Rayn's mind filled with the memorys of his friend Jim, who had his head ripped off by a female vampire. Rayn was filled with rage, He had become a Knight so that he could kill creatures like this. In a flash Rayn had a wooden stake in his hand. The woman dashed fowards and gripped Rayn's shoulders she moved her head towards Rayn's neck.

Rayn knew what he was going to do before she had even moved forwards. He teeth didn't touch Rayn's neck, he stabbed the wooden stake through her heart. She screamed extreamly loadly and Rayn knew it would attract the guards. He watched as the vampire burn't and turned to ash. Rayn slumped up against the wall. He slid down it and sat on the floor letting tears fall down his face freely. Jimmy... Oh Jimmy, if only I had been there sooner...

The high-pitched screech of a scream echoed into the night sky, startling the incredibly tense Sir Kingsley as he carried out his cautious interrogation of the young woman he and his men had found wandering the streets of Estolad. Guessing that it was another vampire attack, but not wanting to leave the young woman, whom he had every right to suspect, alone, the Knight ordered the two soldiers with him to stay with her whilst he ran off to investigate the source of the screams. As the two soldiers and the young woman disappeared into the fog behind him, Sir Kingsley sprinted off down a side-road, and began searching for what it was that had caused the scream.

Is someone else under attack? I need to get there before it's too late! The Knight thought to himself urgently, as the shine of armour reflected from the moonlight and into his eyes subtly.

There!

Rushing into the nearest alleyway, Sir Kingsley found a young man who couldn't have been much older than eighteen or nineteen slumped against the alleyway wall, seeming to be somewhat out of breath. Whether through exhaustion or shock, Sir Kingsley couldn't tell at a first glance, but he guessed it was the latter. The young man held a wooden stake in his hand, gripped firmly, and before him lay a neat layer of dust - identical to the kind that was formed when Sir Kingsley had struck down the vampire earlier outside the Inn. Guessing what had happened quickly enough, the Knight stepped forward and made himself known,

"Hail," He said softly to the young man, who seemed slightly familiar to Sir Kingsley, though he couldn't pinpoint the reason why, "I see you've had a run-in with our new 'residents'. Come, I'll escort you to your home."

Then, startled by his own lack of manners, the Knight quickly added,

"The name is Kingsley, by the way. Sir Kingsley Oakenwood, commander of the Estolad Guard. Who might be you be?"

He extended his hand in greeting.

((OOC: To Umbra; feel free to have your character follow Sir Kingsley if you wish. The guards have not been permitted to harm your character if she leaves, only stay to with her.))

A slight wind ruffled the dark purple cloak around Sorrow’s form as he walked into the town. He was already soaked, his cloak absolutely useless to protect him against this type of constant, drizzling rain. Only a few windows in the town still had any light pouring out; most of the townsfolk had already retired for the evening. Honestly, he wished that he could join them, in a warm bed with a thick blanket and possibly a nice warm fire. He scowled slightly, cursing this foul weather as if it were his personal foe. The very front strands of his hair were wet, and small beads of water dripped over his face as they clung to his forehead and cheekbones. With two movements of his hand, he swept the waterlogged hair out of his face, tucking it behind his pointed ears.

As he rounded a corner, a welcome sight filled his eyes. A tavern sat not a hundred yards away from where he was, with light spilling forth from the large windows. The faint hum of late-night chatter and the quick rhythm of cheerful music also drifted out of the tavern. A small smile adorned Sorrow’s lips, the first one in a long time. He pulled his cloak tighter around his body, quickening his pace to reach the inn faster. Sorrow’s feet sloshed in the mud as he half-ran towards the tavern. His feet stuck slightly in the thick mud, making it labor some to maintain the faster pace. But it paid off, and within thiry seconds, his boots met the satisfying clunk of wood as he opened the door and entered the tavern.

Sorrow pulled back the hood of his cloak and hung it on the rack by the door. He shook his head slightly, trying in vain to get the water out of his long white hair. Sorrow leaned his staff up against the wall near the coat rack, hiding it behind the many coats and hats of the men in the tavern. He smiled, walking up to the bar and sitting on one of the many leather-topped stools. Producing a some coins from his pockets, he ordered himself a pint of dwarven ale and a bowl of hot stew. The bartender obliged, but seemed to be slightly wary of Sorrow. He knew the reason; the bartender was probably unsettled by a Drow entering his establishment. Sorrow had almost become accustomed to this reaction from humans by now; his brethren had built their race quite a nasty reputation.

Nevertheless, he was served promptly. The stew tasted excellent, incredibly hearty with plenty of substance and a thick, gravy-like broth. The meaty aroma filled his nostrils, further arousing the hunger that brewed in his stomach. The stout was harsh at first, but as he drank more, it calmed his nerves slightly and made him feel happier than he had for many weeks. He finished the stew promptly, his ravenous hunger not allowing him to take his time. The hot liquid scalded his tongue, but he didn’t mind. He was too hungry to mind. After the bartender had collected the empty bowl, Sorrow took more time finishing the strong dwarven ale. The cool liquid trickled down his throat with a pleasing quickness, calming him and allowing a smile to come over his face.

The heat of the fire had dried off his clothes in no time, and it was slowly evaporating the water out of his cloak as well. The entire room was cheery and warm, with a welcoming atmosphere typical of local taverns. Big-city pubs seemed lonely even when they were crowded, but here, there was plenty of laughter and conversation to be had. However, everything went deathly silent as heavy armored foosteps approached the door.

A flustered knight entered, dripping wet. He was one of the unfortunate guardsmen who had to keep watch in the dreary weather outside, and he showed it. He left a small trail of water wherever he walked, contantly dripping from his chainmail and squishing out his boots. The militiaman was young, and he had a definitive look of fear and bewilderment in his eyes. He tried to act stoic and unworried, but it didn’t help. Sorrow saw right through him, as did the other men in the bar. He looked over the crowd, and then he spoke.

“I need any able-bodied man with experience wielding a blade to come with me. The town guard requires your assistance. Do I have any volunteers?” He eyed the crowd slowly, and several men stood after a moment’s pause. He continued to eye the crowd in the pub, knowing that there were more.

“I will go as well,” said Sorrow, setting down his ale glass and standing, “I have no skill with a blade, but I do have experience with the arcane. Exactly what kinds of problems are we talking about, here?” The knight’s attention snapped to him, obviously disenchanted with the idea of fighting alongside a Drow.

“You? For all I know, you could be in league with them!” he said. Sorrow noticed that his hand was moving slowly but surely towards the hilt of a broadsword. He eyed the weapon, and then met the guardsman’s eyes with a cynical gaze.

“Oh, yes, how foolish of me to forget. Obviously, the Drow must have some evil intention. He comes into the town seeking drink and rest, but somehow, he’s the cause of all this trouble. It must have slipped my mind that we Drow are all alike,” he said. Sorrow scoweled slightly at the guardsman, allowing his sarcasm to hand in the air. All was deathly quiet, save for the crackling of the fire. The knight shuffled his feet, looking down and refusing to meet Sorrow’s gaze.

“My apologies, sir. I would appreciate your assistance.” Sorrow nodded, moving across the bar to collect his staff and cloak. After a minute more, a party of twelve men had accumulated near the door. Seemingly satisfied with this turnout, the guardsman nodded his approval.

“Come with me,” he said, beckoning with a wave of his hand, “You will be briefed on the situation by our commanding officer, Sir Kingsley.” With that, the party of men marched through the muddy streets of Estolad in silence, each wondering what might await them on this dark and stormy night.

Sartana stopped in the muddy street at an intersection between two main roads. The buildings beside the street carried no light in their windows, and not a soul walked the street- no caravans, soldiers, or commoners. The demonhunter shook his head, water spinning off his wide-brimmed hat. This was a fairly large town- where was everyone? It was a little too early for bed. And what of the local guards? If anything, they'd be keeping watch over the city, and yet there were no patrols. Sartana pulled his black cloak tighter around his form. They must be preoccupied with something. Perhaps they already knew about the vampire infestation?

The man began walking again. Small streams ran through the muddy roads and pooled in lower portions of the town, where the elevation was low. The demonhunter stumbled across one such section of water filling up nearly half the street- but this didn't surprise the man. It was what lay at the shallow water's surface. Sartana kneeled at the edge of the water and turned over what looked like a man in the water. It was human alright- or had been. Sartana frowned. The dead man's face was swollen with water and two bite marks patched with black and blue blotches lay on his neck. There was no blood.

"Sucked dry.” The man said distantly, looking at the body. He left it where it was for now. There was no sense dragging it through the mud to a coroner. The demonhunter didn't even know where he would find one. He sighed.

What could invoke such wrath? There is no way the people living here knew that vampires were present, and the kingdom would surely send troops if such a killing were proven to be the cause of vampires. The master vampire, if there was one still alive, would need some motive for killing seemingly random townspeople on the street. Revenge? Certainly a possibility. Fun? Vampires were smarter than that. He wouldn't waste the lives of his undead minions. Er, the un-lives of his undead minions...

The demonhunter was brought back to reality with the sound of boots squishing against the muddy ground underneath. He rounded the corner with little concern- vampires would not march so openly and fearlessly, even in large numbers. He was greeted with a handful of spears and swords, unsheathed and ready to strike him down. Or at least try to. Sartana stopped and eyed the men. Was this the local militia? They didn't look like an organized military unit.. More like an angry mob.

One of the men, a drenched knight with broadsword in hand, stepped closer to the demonhunter. “You there! Show me your teeth!” Sartana lifted an eyebrow at this, but did so with no argument. He obviously wanted to see if the demonhunter was a vampire. Sartana was glad that they had found out about the undead- he would have hated to explain the situation. The man lowered his sword. “There are vampires about man! Would you join us in our hunt?” He asked.

Sartana nodded. He wanted nothing more than to kill the foul creatures. “Yes, of course. Lead the way.” He said apathetically. The man nodded and the men began moving again. Sartana fell into their ranks, looking the rag-tag soldiers over. Some were just boys. He grinned, and wondered if they'd be able to hold their own against such fearsome opponents. Then he frowned. There was a dark elf with the group- and a damn tall one at that. Very tall. The demonhunter watched him for a moment. Dark elves were known to dabble in the dark arts, and many were allies of the creatures he depised so much: demons. Nonetheless, the demonhunter moved closer to the drow as the part marched.

“Come to fight some vampires, drow?” He asked, not sounding too unfriendly. He didn't look up at the the dark elf when he asked the question.

The rain seemed to get even worse as the small band of men walked through Estolad. Sloshy, watery mud splashed onto the cuffs of Sorrow’s pants as he walked, and the water seeped through his shoes and pooled around his feet. His entire body felt cold and damp, as if the rain could penetrate his very being. The men around him were either very young or very old; not a very good collection of men. He towered above the humans, at least by a foot or more. Drow tended to be a very tall race to begin with, and he was tall even among his kinsmen.

Suddenly, a dark, cloaked figure stepped into view of the party. He moved with a kind of awkward motion typical of someone who had seen combat recently. Sorrow wondered if this newcomer had already battled whatever plagued the town. He didn’t seem too much worse for wear, but he definitely had a distinctively battle-weary look. Sorrow had seen this come over men before, as he had seen much combat in his time. The Knight invited the man to come with them to the command post, and he agreed with a tone of weary apathy.

Sorrow noted uncomfortably that the man made efforts to walk next to him in the group. “Come to fight some vampires, drow?” asked the newcomer. Sorrow let out a half-chuckle of humor laced with melancholy. His eyes stared distantly forward intot he pouring rain and impending darkness.

“I came seeking rest and a spot of ale. Then I got myself enlisted to fight some sort of menace with the town guard. I suppose my intentions are of little consequence, though. Yourself?” he asked. Sorrow turned his head to view the man. He looked down, trying to meet the man’s gaze as he did. The rain beat down even harder as the command post of the town guard came into view. It was a rag-tag structure, constructed mostly of timber and thatch.

As they drew closer, however, Sorrow sensed that something was not quite right about this place. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something here was very out-of-place. He looked down, and noticed that the rainwater running across the ground was laced with red. Blood red. His eyes widened slightly, but he decided not to say anything just yet. He gripped his staff tighter; obviously, whatever was threatening the town was powerful and bloodthirsty.

As they drew closer, Sorrow noted that the door of the command post was ajar. It swung on it’s hinges in the wind, and the floor within was wet. The men entered the post, only to find a horrific scene inside. Some of the first men in the door ran back out, and vomited into the mud. Sorrow merely grimaced, grunting a small hint of disgust. He turned his head downwards and closed his eyes. The outpost was strewn with the bodies of soldiers. They held no sword wounds, but their faces were pale and blotched with blue and black bruises. The furniture in the room was broken and smashed, and weapons were strewn on the floor. Some of the bodies had been savagely dismembered, while others were intact. Sorrow had only seen something like this once before. He knew instantly what the threat was. This was the work of vampires, and a fair number of them at that.

Sorrow made the holy sign of Lothlomendil, lifting up a small prayer for the souls of the fallen guardsman. He turned to the new man, motioning towards the bodies. “Looks like someone beat us here,” he observed. Sorrow’s dark expression hardened as the other men took in the scene, and he waited for the newcomer’s response.

There was something about the rain that always put the demonhunter in a good mood. What did it was that rain stopped travel, halted plans, and often forced one to stay indoors and proceed through the day at a lazy pace- perfect for Sartana. A day spent laying around, sleeping, or doing some light fencing training was a day well-spent. Throw in some hearty meals and it was the perfect day. Yet, this evening didn't bring him any joy. It brought a melancholy mood about him, and seemed to dull his reflexes dangerously. In all honesty, the demonhunter had been shocked when the vampire he faced earlier actually hit him. Vampires were skilled combatants, but Sartana had years of experience under his belt. He would need to be extra precocious this day.

The demonhunter was surprised at the air that surrounded the drow's response. The man didn't seem hostile at all- a rarity for the race. Sartana had dealt with dark elves before, and this one was quite different from them. Not to mention his choice of weapons- a staff- was far different from the stereotypical scimitar combo that seemed to come with every drow that set out on his own. This man seemed to be a mage; this was good. A non-melee backup would be very useful for the group. Sartana touched his hand to his chest, its form emanating a wispy, purple mist. There was evil about. No creatures were within at least 100 meters of the group at the moment, however. This was a relief, and the demonhunter turned to meet eyes with the Drow. “I was relaxing when I sensed the evil bastards in this town. It looks like we're both here to get even with them for messing up our free time.” Sartana replied with a smirk.

Sartana shook his head at the sight of the town's command post, if you could even call it that. For such a large town, they were scantily protected. He wondered what type of warriors would be employed by such a poor area. He soon came to the conclusion that they were weak ones- men not nearly as trained as they should be. A young boy, sucked dry and pale laying in the rain, slouched over next to the dislodged door of the post. Sartana looked down at him and shook his head. “Just a boy... And this armor- cheap iron. Surely they can afford better than this..” He said quietly, bending over and closing the boy's dull eyes. He unsheathed his longsword and rested it on his shoulder. It was obsidian with an opening cut through the middle of the blade, running vertically up it. It was made for parrying, and disarming opponents.

He pushed past a few of the men in the group and looked into the command post at the massacre. There were at least ten men inside- though he couldn't tell the exact number. Limbs had been torn off, many body parts were piled in one corner, and there was a lone head of an elderly man sitting on the table atop a wooden plate filled with stagnant blood. The demonhunter nodded to himself offhandedly. These vampires were killing for pleasure. But why? What would drive them to act in such a way? He stepped back out into the rain and stood next to the dark elf, who was praying. Sartana didn't believe in God.

Once he was finished, the dark elf motioned towards the slaughter. “Looks like someone beat us here.” He said with a cold face. The demonhunter nodded. “They've taken out the command post for a reason. This would be an excellent maneuver if they were planning a larger assault on the town, but I can't help but think these vampires aren't that smart. They've been killing for hunger, yes, but also for enjoyment.” He said, pulling his crimson scarf down. “We need a plan.”

The newcomer spoke with an air of experience. He had the thought process of a tactician, a military man. He was certainly built as one. However, Sorrow knew better than anyone that drawing conclusion based on appearance was not good. Sorrow continued to observe the bloody scene as he thought over the man’s words.

“Aye,” he said. Sorrow bent to examine one corpse. Thick streams of blood steadily gushed from the two puncture wounds in his neck. “Look at this one here. He’s still bleeding heavily, not completely drained. They only took enough to kill him.” Sorrow looked around at several of the other bodies, and some had similar markings. “This was not a feast, it was a tactical strike. They were probably hoping to completely neautralize the town guard. But your query remains’ why are they doing this. I agree, it is atypical of their race to make such prescision strikes. It all seems much too organized for an ordinary nest of vampires. Either the head of the nest is incredibly smart, or there is some other force guiding them.” Sorrow spoke distantly, simply musing out loud. His guess as good as anyone’s at this point. Nothing made much sense at all.

Sorrow turned his attention to the guardsman who had collected them from the tavern. The man was on his knees, and a look of shock had come over his face. Sorrow knelt near him, putting one hand on the man’s shoulder to console him. “Soldier, I know this is hard for you. But right now, we need to focus. Now then, is your leader among the dead here?” he asked. The soldier simply shook his head, apparently too disturbed to utter any words. Sorrow breathed a sigh. The town guard’s leader had not yet died. However, he was most certainly in grave peril. “Do you know where he is now?” he asked. The soldier only replied with another negative head shake. Sorrow looked down for a moment, and then stood, walking back over to where the newcomer was standing.

“The leader is not here. The vampires were probably sent to eliminate him specifically, which means he’s in grave peril. The plan right now is to secure him and any surviving guardsman, and then formulate a plan once we know our strengths. There is always security in numbers,” said Sorrow. "My name is Sorrow. Yours?” He asked. It seemed rather odd to have casual introductions in a place like this, but the man’s name would be important in a battle situation. Sorrow leaned on his staff as he awaited the man’s reaction.

"Hail," A knight said softly to the young man. He had just came down the ally, Rayn hadn't even noticed him coming. Rayn soon saw that by his dress he was a Knight. "I see you've had a run-in with our new 'residents'. Come, I'll escort you to your home." The Knight said. Rayn laughed a little bitterly. He stuffed the wooden stake back under his cloak.

"The name is Kingsley, by the way. Sir Kingsley Oakenwood, commander of the Estolad Guard. Who might be you be?" The Knight said and extended his hand in greeting. Rayn took his hand and stood up.

"Hello Sir Kingsley..." Rayn said with a secret smile. A fellow Knight He thought. "I am Rayn al Boha a Holy Knight searching the land for faith and to distroy evil... Therefore I can not go home... I simply do not have one." Rayn said. He pulled his cloak back and showed what he wore.

"I have a Holy Sword, when fighting vampires it will burn with white flames. I also have a few stakes..." Rayn said and paused. "Sir Kingsly... When I was a boy... A vampire killed my best friend... Ripped his head off and let it roll across the floor before my eyes... There is nothing I hate more in this world then vampires... Tonight my sword will fight along side yours... Trust me I know how to use it." He said with a grin. A strange light filled Rayn's eyes.

((OOC: As long as its okay with Rayn, either St Sorrow or Sartana-Kun can post Kingsley and his arrival at the barracks-house/outpost))

Sir Kingsley listened intently to the man in the alleyway. The young man showed him the garments that he wore, and the Knight of Estolad recognised the symbolic references even before the man made the statement himself,

A fellow Knight!, he thought, This night seems to be full of surprises.

He then listened further as the young man, who identified himself as being named Rayn, something Sir Kingsley found ironic given the current weather situation of the evening, told him of how he had lost his best friend to the creatures of the night known only to the villagers of Estolad as vampires. He also made a mental note of the young Rayn's claim to have devoted himself to the slaying of such creatures, a speciality which made Sir Kingsley hopeful at the very least. Remaining silent for a short while after this story, somewhat unsure as to what to say in response, the only noise Sir Kingsley could hear was the rainwater hitting the ground around them. Knowing that they both, as Knights, had their duties to do, he stood up straight and beckoned for Rayn to follow him as he made his way to the mouth of the alleyway and into the street next to it,

"Come, my comrade, I fear that the town is not free of these creatures. We should converge at the barracks-house. There we will be able to co-ordinate the next course of action for the Guard to take."

Though his attitude and accent were both distinctly upper-class, the small tone of urgency in his voice discredited these qualities immediately, as he looked down to the end of the street to see where his two guards were stood with the young woman they had encountered. Calling one of them over, Sir Kingsley ordered them to escort the young woman to her home, wherever that was, before meeting him and the Knight Rayn at the barracks-house. The militiaman questioned his commander's orders shortly, saying that the woman seemed somewhat rebellious, and so the Knight of the Realm instead told him to stay with her wherever she went, even if that was to the barracks-house aswell. Nodding his head, the militiaman returned to the young woman and his companion, as Sir Kingsley began to make his way up the street in the opposite direction, beckoning for Rayn to follow him,

"The barracks-house is but a short way. Come, it shouldn't take us long to get there."

Sartana nodded as the Drow mused, agreeing with what he said, and impressed by the man's intellect- though this wasn't surprising, as he was a mage. A staple of the profession was a strong mind. He would be quite useful this night. The demonhunter brought his gloved hand to his chin, and shook his head, looking at the bloody man on the ground. “But why would they attack such a pissant little town..? What gain could they hope for?” The demonhunter pondered this for a moment. If the vampires had left the victims alive, even just barely, they would have risen as vampires themselves. Not terribly powerful, nor of any significant free will, but effective minions all the same. Yet, the vampires had worked to specifically slay the town guard. Every man was dead, most of them still holding blood in their bodies, or having it used as paint for the walls of their barracks. It was not in the bellies of the bastard vampires. Was there something the demonhunter was missing?

He pitied the helpless officer that had been so resolute earlier, before seeing his friends torn from limb to limb. He would need to be stronger, though; this night was bound to hold more terrible horrors than the slaughter they had found here. Sartana listened to the dark elf's words: “Soldier, I know this is hard for you. But right now, we need to focus. Now then, is your leader among the dead here?” That was it- their leader! He would know everything about the town. If their was an underlying fact that only an inhabitant of the town would know, the captain himself would. Sartana was relieved to hear that the captain was not among the dead here.

“Good plan, Sorrow.” Replied the demonhunter, resting his longsword on one of his broad, black-clothed shoulders. He tipped his hat up a bit, revealing two different colored eyes: one blue, one green. The demonhunter's face was dark and scruffy at the chin, with dark rings around his eyes. He looked kind enough, though, and was smirking. “I'm Sartana. 'The Vengeful' to some.”

The demonhunter turned to his right, spotting two men walking towards them clad in armor and carrying weapons. One wore a suit of studded leather armor with a large broadsword that seemed to glow in the twilight, the other a tall, caped man looking to be of some prestige, carrying a two-handed sword. A mysterious-looking woman and two soldiers walked behind them. These were not vampires. Sartana pulled his crimson scarf over his face again. He looked at the men in the front. “Who do you suppose these two are, Sorrow?” He asked, his deep voice in contrast to the high-pitched sobs of some of the militiamen looking at the slaughter.

Something hit the demonhunter's gut. It was an odd feeling that he got often, usually while on the hunt. A member of the group that approached them had demon blood. Sartana gritted his teeth.

Umbra stiffened at a scream in the air, the Captian ran past her after ordering his guards to stay with her. Well...Hes certianly the trusting type. she thought as she knew how easily it would have been for her to kill his men and be on her way. She looked at them and turned running after the captian. "HEY GET BACK HERE!" one of them said. She turned and smiled, ]Catch me if you can. she thought as she followed the captian to the side of a man. The soldiers weren't more than a quarter mile behind her. She did not say anything as the Captian checked the man. "The name is Kingsley, by the way. Sir Kingsley Oakenwood, commander of the Estolad Guard. Who might be you be?"

The man gave a greeting as well, "Hail. Hello Sir Kingsley I am Rayn al Boha a Holy Knight searching the land for faith and to distroy evil... Therefore I can not go home... I simply do not have one." he said. She knew the feeling, but hers was another reason. "I have a Holy Sword, when fighting vampires it will burn with white flames. I also have a few stakes...Sir Kingsly... When I was a boy... A vampire killed my best friend... Ripped his head off and let it roll across the floor before my eyes... There is nothing I hate more in this world then vampires... Tonight my sword will fight along side yours... Trust me I know how to use it." She raised an eyebrow amazed. But more so about the vampires. She felt her neck as she remembered the night a few months ago.

She ran her hand over the scar, "Guess killing their leader wasn't enough of a warning. Now they'll know why I am a Tai Ruman." she whispered to herself then walked over to the clothes of the vampire and picked up a pin, she became even more sullen. "The crest is the same." she said dropping it. "This clan attacked Estolad once before. My friends and I stopped them but apparently the sun did not get all of them like we thought. Count on me to help pick up where I last left off." she said. Her thoughts went to Tanya, "No matter what, I wont let them hurt her." she whispered.

The knight beconed for Rayn to follow and Umbra did as well. The soldiers finally caught up to her, one panting while the other tried clumsily to grab her arm which she easily pulled away. She was fast on her feet, although she would never say she used her blur spell at the last leg. "The barracks-house is but a short way. Come, it shouldn't take us long to get there." She followed silently, watching the shadows. She knew how the clan moved. She would not let them win this time, she would show the knight her worth. As they got to the barraks she let the men enter first. Then she soon followed, “Who do you suppose these two are, Sorrow?” one of them said. She could not help but flinch as the overwhelming smell of blood was in the air, she resisted the urdge to put her hand over her face but had to deal with the smell because she would not stand the taste in the air.

Sir Kingsley almost came close to losing his balance when he first entered the barracks-house, because he came to such a sudden halt upon seeing the sight before him. The entire place seemed to bathed in blood - the blood of Sir Kingsley's men. Before him, amongst the mutilated dead, stood a large group of civilian-armed men, a lethal-looking Drow and a man who seemed somewhat....dangerous. Upon the seeing the Drow, however, Sir Kingsley immediately raised his blade to point at its throat and demanded in a firm voice,

"I say there, Drow, what in the Lord's name have you done!"

His voice choked slightly as he took in the sight of all the dead once more. The men who had been under his command, and therefore his responsibility, had been butchered. Some had not even reached full manhood yet, being merely fifteen or sixteen, whilst others had been at an age so great that they should have been sat home by the fire, relaxing, instead of getting their grey hairs wet in the rain. Despite their flaws, those men had been Sir Kingsley's responsibility in Estolad, and were the only constant line of defence against any who moved against the village. The Knight's emotions had got the better of him temporarily, as he held his blade to the Drow's throat, but his senses soon returned to him after holding the blade there for no more than a moment or so, as he realised that if the Drow had indeed been responsible, then the men around them, who seemed to be those that Sir Kingsley had ordered to be rounded up from the Inn, would surely had killed him by now. Unsure what to do, Sir Kingsley lowered the blade slowly before catching sight of the militiaman known as Durgan, the one he had sent to the Inn earlier in the night. Making his way over to the soldier without a second glance at those inside the barracks-house, Sir Kingsley placed his hands on the distraught guardsman's shoulders and said in a firm, but urgent voice,

"Mr Durgan, you need to pull yourself together and look at me," When the militiaman did as he said, and he saw no oddness in his eyes, the Knight ruled out any possibility of he or the other men being enchanted to committ the act, before continuing to say, "Mr Durgan, did you see how many vampires attacked this place?"

The militiaman shook his head slowly, and Sir Kingsley cursed under his breath, before realising there was nothing that could be done immediately, and that it would be wiser to find out who all the strangers were, including the young woman that had followed him to the barracks-house, pledging her support to the eradication of the vampire attackers. Apparently she had encountered them before. Clearing his throat and calling for the attention the group, some of whom he recognised as regulars at the Inn, the Knight said in his prestigious voice,

"Gentleman, and Lady, this night has swiftly become a night of...." He trailed off slightly as he glanced around at the carnage sadly, before shaking his head and continuing, "...a night of great tragedy. If we are to make an effective counter-attack against those responsible for this....butchery....then we must co-ordinate our actions here and now. For those of you who do not know who I am," His eyes fell upon the Drow and the dangerous-looking man at this point, "I am Sir Kingsley Oakenwood, Commander of the Estolad Guard. If you have any information, or skills, that would be useful to finding and destroying these monsters, please bring it forth now."

Though he was usually a man without prejudice or other such stereotypical views, the Knight could not help but feel somewhat uneasy being in the presence of a Drow. Any other night he would not have considered it anything more than intriguing to meet such a being, but on a night when the majority of his Guard had just been butchered by creatures of blood-thirsty evil, Sir Kingsley could not help but feel somewhat wary of the Dark-Elf...

“Who do you suppose these two are, Sorrow?” asked the newly-introduced Sartana. The man’s dangerous pseudoname, “The Vengeful”, made Sorrow slightly wary of him. A nickname like that was not earned by making good tea. Obviously, he had some skill with his blade, or he was simply an easily enraged person. In either case, it was probably best to keep an eye on him. Normally, Sorrow would have lectured him on morals, and how vengeance was not the way. But talks about forgiveness and the path of holiness were out-of-place on such a dark night as this.

“I do not know. Let us hope that they are allies,” he said. Sorrow squinted his eyes to try and get a better look at them, but to little avail. Normally, his elven eyes would be able to see them easily and clearly, but the rain was coming down faster now, and it obscured his vision. They appeared as mere silhouettes, even to his trained eyes. Sorrow’s eyes narrowed as he noticed Sartana eyeing a third figure in the background. It was female, and fairly heavily armed, but that was all Sorrow could make out from this distance. However, he noticed as a look of anger came over Sartana’s face. It was odd; there was no way the human’s eyesight was any better than his own, and yet this third figure seemed to inspire a great anger into him.

“Sartana, do you have some quarrel with these men?” he asked. Initially, he received no response. He simply waited, and watched as the armor-clad figures made their way through the rain. Sorrow took a half-pace back as they approached, allowing the three to enter the room. He found that it was unwise, as he soon had the tip of a two-handed sword at his throat. Sorrow did not panic; such shock was typical of humans. Their kind seemed to be full of steriotypes and assumptions. He simply raised one eyebrow, meeting the knight’s gaze. Soon, however, the blade was removed as the knight came to his senses. Inwardly, Sorrow breathed a sigh of relief.

“I have done nothing here, good sir Knight. I came to Estolad seeking rest, and am here to voluntarily aid in the defense of this town. I hope that we will not have any further… confrontations,” said Sorrow, trying to defuse the situation. It was a tense moment, and he decided that the Knight’s hasty reaction had been born out of shock. It was understandable, and Sorrow calmed himself with these thoughts. His Drow nature marked this man as an enemy, and it burned with a rage at being threatened. For the time being, however, he managed to suppress it and simply stood in a respectful silence.

Sorrow looked over at the woman, and realized that he did indeed know here. They had met briefly by Lake Aelin some weeks beforehand, and it seemed an odd coincidence that she would be in Estolad at the same time as he. “Umbra?” he said, “What are you doing here on such a dark night as this?” Sorrow took a step forward, approaching her with a hint of confusion on his face. However, their meeting was cut short as Sir Kingsley spoke.

“If you have any information, or skills, that would be useful to finding and destroying these monsters, please bring it forth now," he said. Obviously, Sir Kingsley was distraught by the loss of his men, and rightfully so. The sudden and violent deaths of so many was not something to be taken lightly.

“My staff stands with you, Sir Kingsley,” said Sorrow. He conjured a simply fireball in his hands, allowing it to hover above his palm for a few seconds before cancelling the spell. He met Sir Kingsley’s gaze, “How many men do we have left? If we are to survive this knight, we will need as many skilled blades as we can get. Morning is still many hours away, and the vampires are still strong in numbers. Sartana and I have agreed that something intelligent must be leading them, either a masterful Head Vampire, or some foreign guidance. Their assault is well-calculated, as if planned out completely beforehand. Such is not typical behavior of ordinary vampires. Do you have any information as to why such an extensive nest of vampires would be attacking Estolad?”

((OOC: I hope Umbra doesn't mind me using a plot-point she raised in her last post))

Sir Kingsley was calmed of his suspicions of the Drow even more when he the elf spoke to him in a perfectly civilised, and seemingly understanding, manner. Being able to reasonably deduce that the Drow was probably simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, the Knight let a short sigh of relief escape him before eyeing the staff with the Drow was holding and making a mental note that he was probably in the presence of one well-learned in the arcane arts. Sir Kingsley himself was not a particularly large-fan of magic, having only been able to ever conjure a small Healing spell which usually backfired, but he certainly wasn't about to turn against an arcane-wielder in the midst of a conflict with vampires. When questioned about the number of men in the Guard still remainding, the Knight did a quick mental calculation in his head before replying,

"I had ordered extra patrols to be sent out earlier on, and by the looks of the dead here, I would say that those extra patrols were not still here when the attack happened." The realisations began to become apparent to the Knight, "Since the patrols couldn't have received my orders and set out long ago, that would make the time of this attack extremely recent. The attackers had probably left mere moments before you arrived, which means ----"

Sir Kingsley halted mid-way through his sentence, before quickly making his way out into the middle of the street, gazing around at the rooftops of the houses and down the sides of the alleyways near the barracks-house. Satisfied that none of the vampires remained in their immediate proximity, the Knight returned before carrying on speaking to the Drow,

"Which means that they could be nearby. They're not right on top of us or hiding in any of the nearby alleyways, it seems, but we should still all be on our guard. The three patrols still around the town are all aware of the vampire threat, but so were the men here at the barracks-house by the time they were attacked, which leaves us with little doubt that these creatures are experts in the matters of stealth."

He paused for a second, as if to go over what he had just said in his head, before continuing, the urgency of his voice being replacing with his usual upper-class flair as he became accustomed to the situation he was in,

"As for your suggestion that the vampires are being led by an incredibly influential outer-authority, well, I agree with you entirely. There was an incursion of the creatures here several months ago, when I was attending business in Lomedor, but by second-in-command, Captain Ilmo, informed me that they were taken care of before the Guard were even fully mobilised. I have little doubt as to the two assaults being related, but the dastardly thing is that we still have no idea as to their motivation for doing all of this."

It was only then that something the Knight had heard whilst coming across Rayn just a short while became apparent in his head. At the time he had been too pre-occupied with the discovery of another vampire attack to fully process what the words entailed, for they had come from the young woman he and his men had encounter, and at first she seemed to be saying nothing that wasn't new to the Knight - only that the town had suffered a similiar attack before. But now, he remember the woman also mentioning how she thought "we" had taken care of all of them before.

She knows something...

Turning his attention away from the Drow and immediately fixing it upon the young woman, the Knight demanded in his hearty voice,

"My lady, I am afraid I must demand that you tell me what you meant before about you and your 'friends' combating these creatures before. Is there any link between the events now? Do you know what is leading them?"

The urgency was returning once more to his voice as he said this.

Sir Kingsley definately was one of sterotyping people for the moment he saw what was going on he forced the blame on the drow. Umbra glanced at the nearby man, something set the alarm off in her head. She was about to jump in when Sorrow defused the situation. Suddenly recognition filled his eyes “Umbra? What are you doing here on such a dark night as this?" he had asked. She gave a slight smile. "A friend. I have a close friend here in the city and she has been sick lately so I came to see how she was doing but the vampires canceled that plan for now." she said looking out the window, the rain was still in downpour, "I just pray to Kieraline that her parents locked her in. Tanya was always the adventursome type, I know wishing that on her is not something a friend should do but...If you know Tanya like I do; being out in this weather even without vampires is asking for trouble." she said.

Sir Kingsley soon spoke afterwards, "I had ordered extra patrols to be sent out earlier on, and by the looks of the dead here, I would say that those extra patrols were not still here when the attack happened." The realisations began to become apparent to the Knight, "Since the patrols couldn't have received my orders and set out long ago, that would make the time of this attack extremely recent. The attackers had probably left mere moments before you arrived, which means ----" he paused looking out on the rooftops, Umbra cursed the rain in her thoughts for drowning out small smells. Content he returned and continued "Which means that they could be nearby. They're not right on top of us or hiding in any of the nearby alleyways, it seems, but we should still all be on our guard. The three patrols still around the town are all aware of the vampire threat, but so were the men here at the barracks-house by the time they were attacked, which leaves us with little doubt that these creatures are experts in the matters of stealth."

She smiled and gave a chuckle, "Not really. They are too clumsy, they make the smallest noises. Ones you cant hear but I can. They think the rain masks their sound but it only masks the smell, when there is not any blood." she said shaking her head. Sir Kingsly continued "As for your suggestion that the vampires are being led by an incredibly influential outer-authority, well, I agree with you entirely. There was an incursion of the creatures here several months ago, when I was attending business in Lomedor, but by second-in-command, Captain Ilmo, informed me that they were taken care of before the Guard were even fully mobilised. I have little doubt as to the two assaults being related, but the dastardly thing is that we still have no idea as to their motivation for doing all of this." he said but suddenly paused.

He turned to her and met her gaze and in a serious tone began to speak. "My lady, I am afraid I must demand that you tell me what you meant before about you and your 'friends' combating these creatures before. Is there any link between the events now? Do you know what is leading them?" She froze for a moment, she remembered it well, especially the man leading them. She touched the scar on her shoulder once more, "It was a few months ago. I don't know how it began, I came from the call of a friend, not the one who lives here but another, a half-phoenix called Shadow. He came here to find the village in cages, I came to help after I recieved his call from the falcon he sent; but three others also came: Malisaro, Karas and Yonder. It was a harsh battle, it turned for the worse when Yonder freed the villagers who immediately left Estolad." she said then smiled as she remembered the irony. "We were winning when suddenly the vampire lord brought all the vampires together and created one big monster. We were able to get inside...Boy was that the most fun thing ever...but somehow the vampire lord was able to ambush us. He tried to bite me but somehow I never transformed." she said pulling her collar over an inch to show the scar where the vampire had puncured her skin. She continued pulling the collar over more than normal to hide the wounds. "The sun came up an hour after that. We thought all of the Vampires died in the rays, and the vampire part in me died as well preventing me from going full vampire. We thought we had won. I guess we were wrong." she said grimly looking out the window.

She turned back to them. "The vampire lord did die from the rays of the sun. I made sure of that personally, but why they are here now...I have no clue. My bet is on revenge, but I have been wrong before. But this is the same clan of vampires, that I am certian." she said to them finishing her story.


(((OOC: Your more than welcome to use it, and for those who want to read the topic to know the whole story instead of the summary I gave, here is the thread)))

( Heh.. Miss a few posts in this place and you get waaay behind. ^_^ )

“I don't know. Let us hope they are allies.” The demonhunter heard Sorrow's words, but missed what the dark elf said afterwards. He was too busy concentrating on moving his right hand in deft formations. He stopped the movement his hand, and its gloved form was instantly enveloped in a dark purple mist, hanging and swirling about his fingertips, then dissipating only seconds later. The demonhunter grunted. One of the newcomers that approached them was of demon blood, but... Sartana frowned, and adjusted his scarf around his mouth. She was not evil.

He crossed his arms across his chest and watched as the group walked past him. There was little holding him back from attacking her. If she had been a full-fledged demon, he would have assaulted her, regardless of her gender or prowess with a blade. He grimaced. Her equipment, her armor, and the air surrounding her.. She was a seasoned warrior. An A-class demon, even as only a half-breed. Her steps were carefully placed, her arms moving fluidly with her body and eyes alert and scanning the dark, rainy streets. She was a fighter.

As soon as the leader of the group lifted his blade to Sorrow's throat, the demonhunter had brought his blade deftly to the right, touching the muddy ground, ready to knock the blade away from his dark elf companion's throat and counter-attack. He waited, though, and soon found that the knight- as he assumed the man was- had just lost control of his emotions, and would not attack. He watched as the man went to console his officer, a man named Dourgan. He wasn't paying attention to their words, however. He watched the half-demon from the corner of his eye. Yet, the captain's words won over his full attention.

“Gentlemen, and Lady, this night has swiftly become a night of...” The demonhunter watched as the knight shook his head, obviously distraught over the loss of his men, but he soon recovered and continued. "...a night of great tragedy. If we are to make an effective counter-attack against those responsible for this....butchery....then we must co-ordinate our actions here and now. For those of you who do not know who I am," Sartana locked eyes with him. "I am Sir Kingsley Oakenwood, Commander of the Estolad Guard. If you have any information, or skills, that would be useful to finding and destroying these monsters, please bring it forth now." So, he was a knight as the demonhunter had thought. Not to mention the man was good, and caring- Sartana could tell from looking into his eyes. He would make a fine ally. The demonhunter listened to the rest of his words and nodded, staring into the rainy streets, dark and uninviting. Sartana would definitely help.

The demonhunter turned his head when he heard Sorrow's voice, addressing the woman of the group. Was the Drow a friend of this woman..? He decided to watch Sorrow carefully, too. He seemed good enough, but to make such presumptions about people's character after just meeting them... It was a deadly mistake, one that Sartana had done many times in his youth. He watched Sorrow talk to the knight, relaying the information Sartana and him had mused over after discovering the dead men and ransacked command post. He was surprised at how up front and determined the Drow seemed to be, taking control of the situation as he did and acting on his feet. The knight seemed to have control of the situation, too, and Sartana spoke up after the knight questioned if the vampires could be nearby, and mused about their being masters of stealth. He listened to Umbra's response. "Not really. They are too clumsy, they make the smallest noises. Ones you cant hear but I can. They think the rain masks their sound but it only masks the smell, when there is not any blood." The demonhunter nodded. “There are no vampires nearby, not within at least 100 meters of where we stand. They are likely engaging your patrols as we speak.” He said, his voice deep and masculine.

He watched as the captain turned to the woman. "My lady, I am afraid I must demand that you tell me what you meant before about you and your 'friends' combating these creatures before. Is there any link between the events now? Do you know what is leading them?" The demonhunter was surprised by this. The knight had only just met the woman, and yet she traveled with his group and he seemed to trust her. He tipped his black hat lower, hiding his colorful eyes, and listened for the half-demon's response.

So that was the story. Revenge. A wicked smile curved onto the demonhunter's lips from underneath his crimson scarf. Yes, vengeance was as good a reason as any to kill. He knew that well. But, there were more important things at hand. They needed action. He turned to Sir Kingsley. “There are pressing matters at hand, Kingsley. You care for your men, do you not? You have two patrols that may be fighting for their lives as we speak. Would you have more blood on your hands?” He asked, looking at the Knight, and then sliding his eyes to the demoness. He couldn't help but glare, and his voice was immediately less than friendly. “If this woman speaks the truth,” he eyed her from under his wide hat, then turned back to Kingsley, his voice tipped with apathy once again, “..then either the vampire lord has returned from the dead, or something worse is happening here. Either way, we need to act now, before more men's lives are wasted.” He finished, resting his blade on his black shoulder once again. He had a hunch that necromancy was at work here, but kept it to himself.

Sorrow eyed Umbra with his full attention as she spoke a dark tale about how this same group of vampires had attacked the town once before. That struck him as incredibly off. Most of the time, if vampires were defeated in one place, they would move the nest elsewhere. Most vampires were opportunistic and had instincts geared more towards survival than vengeance. Umbra’s stories seemed only to confirm his suspicions that something else, something more than just an ordinary nest of vampires was at work in the town.

Luckily, Kingsley had confirmed that there were two more divisions of guardsmen left alive. Sorrow contemplated their odds. Honestly, he had no idea how many vampires really lurked in the shadows of Estold, but at least six or seven must have been required to so quickly destroy a command post like this one. There were, of course, bound to be more than just the strike force that attacked the barracks-house. Their odds were not so good, especially if the vampires were currently heading off to engage the remaining regiments. The civilian populace would not stand and fight against this undead evil; they would probably flee, and the few that shoes to make a stand would surely be killed. It was a dark situation all around.

“This is precarious. All we can do now is get everyone to a centralized location, preferably one that is easily defended. Is there a shrine to Lothlomendil in this town, or possibly some other holy ground? If so, we should congregate as many people as possible there. The vampires will not be able to tread on blessed soil. The women and children should at least be placed there for security, and the men can take up another easily-defended position to plot our next move,” said Sorrow. He was simply musing aloud, trying his best to think of ways to keep the townspeople alive until morning. Fighting the vampires seemed a hopeless and generally bad option. Their enemies had the advantage in strength and numbers, and the best that the town would be able to muster would be a mob of lightly-armed civilians. As talented as he and the others in this room were, they could not fight such an enemy alone.

However, Sorrow’s thoughts were cut short by the clash of metal and the screams of dying men. The commotion of battle was far-off, possibly on the other side of town. Sorrow knew that Sartana’s predictions had come true, and that the vampires had gone to engage the other patrols first. Sorrow gripped his staff tighter.

“It seems that Sartana is correct. However, I fear that rushing to aid the patrol will only result in our own deaths. We should go and collect the patrol that has not already been attacked,” he said. Sorrow knew that this would not go over well with Kingsley or Rayn, but all he could do for now was await a reply.

((EDIT: Was writing whilst Sorrow was. Have added a few things to correspond with his post))

The story that the young woman presented to Sir Kingsley and the others seemed most intriguing, but not least of all to the Knight himself, who was near-bewildered that a Vampire Lord, an actual Lord, had invaded Estolad whilst he was away and nearly conquered the town. It was at this point that he began to believe that the reason the Estolad Guard had not mobilised during the last incident was probably for fear of their lives. Understandable, but nonetheless disappointing to the Knight. Once the young woman finished her story, and providing the others with several significant pieces of information, including a possible motive for the vampires' actions, the dangerous-looking man spoke up to the group, and after surprising the Knight with his own ability to tell whether or not the vampires were nearby, Sir Kingsley gave him his full attention also,

“There are pressing matters at hand, Kingsley. You care for your men, do you not? You have two patrols that may be fighting for their lives as we speak. Would you have more blood on your hands?” The man said, which caused the Knight's usually-cool temper to boil slightly, for he was much offended by the mere question itself, rhetorical or not.

The man then turned to the young woman briefly, and Sir Kingsley was not blind to the obvious change in tone that the man showed towards her. Maybe he wasn't very approving of members of the fairer gender being geared up and ready to fight? Sir Kingsley could not dwell on the matter as the man turned back and proclaimed that,

“Then either the vampire lord has returned from the dead, or something worse is happening here. Either way, we need to act now, before more mens' lives are wasted.”

"I agree absolutely," Sir Kingsley said to the man, speaking rather quickly as he did but still with that upper-class flair, "Of the three patrols, there will be one in the North of the town, the South and the West. I was patrolling the East when my patrol was attacked. Here, just outside the barracks-house, you will all be able to see a large alarm bell. When rung, it will signal for all members of the Guard to report straight back to the barracks-house."

It was at this point that the Drow pointed out for the need to place the women and children in some kind of blessed location, whilst the men stayed and fought. Sir Kingsley immediately turned round to face the Drow, saying as he did so in a slightly startled voice,

"I appologise, master Drow, if I seem somewhat disagreeable, but I believe that to attempt to evacuate the female and infant populace to the small shrine that we have would be very risky. The sight of large groups of....victims....may prove too much for the vampires, and if they attack in the middle of a large group of innocents...well...it doesn't bear thinking about."

As if guessing that some of the others would point out the most obvious flaw in his original plan, concerning the ringing of the alarm bell, the Knight quickly added,

"I am fully aware that such an obvious act would reveal to the vampires that there is a gathering of us here, but I would rather we were all stood together defending the only remotely-military building in this entire town rather than scattered across the place and being picked off one by one. If at least one of the patrols return, we should have enough to face the vampires. They can't be in too-large a group or they would have surely been noticed sooner. You all seem to be seasoned warriors, and I am confident in our ability to defeat this threat, especially with the arcane abilities of our Drow friend here."

As if trying to redeem himself for his previous dismissal of the Drow's suggestion, Sir Kingsley gestured to the Drow with a positive, somewhat warm, wave of the hand. It was then that the sounds of fighting were heard a short distance away, probably no more than several streets,

"God's fury!" Sir Kingsley exclaimed, as he immediately began ringing the alarm bell to recall the other patrols that weren't under attack, "We have to help them! Mr Durgan! Stay here and wait for the other patrols! The rest of you, any who are with me come! To arms! To arms!"

Then, not waiting for a reply, the Knight grasped his two-handed blade firmly between his gloved hands and began charging up the street in the direction of the sounds of battle, urgency in his sprint as he desperately tried to make it there in time to save his men. Not looking back to see if any were following him, he round several street corners before he found the scene of the disturbance....

((OOC: Whoever posts next can choose exactly what they see. Ongoing battle? Another massacre? Up to you :D ))

Out of the dozen or so men and women that stood there, Sartana quickly determined that Sorrow, Sir Kingsley, himself, and the half-demon named Umbra were the strongest, and most adapt at their preferred style of combat. He determined this by watching their movements, looking over their equipment, and above all else, looking into their eyes. He had lost much of his strength in the explosion that had transported him to the plane of existence, but luckily he retained his abilities to read people, and detect the evil-hearted around him. He looked at his gloved hand at his side. If only it had the power it once held… He looked back up at the men. This Kingsley fellow- he was strong. Not only that, he seemed to be a born leader, seemingly schooled and raised in an upper-class family. He was also quite proficient with his blade, considering how he brought its tip to Sorrow’s neck so deftly and with such precision- and with such an unwieldy two-handed weapon at that! But Sorrow- he was also powerful. The demonhunter had not witnessed the dark elf in combat as of yet, but by his strides and movements, Sartana found him to have quite the dexterity, perhaps surpassing that of the demonhunter. Perhaps. He smirked and shook his head. The Drow also had a quick mind. A deadly combo if there was one. Sartana turned to the woman, silent and alert. He didn’t know much about her, and he didn’t want to. The sooner she was gone, or dispatched by the vampires, the better. In Sartana’s world, where he had been sent from, demons had enslaved humankind, locked in an eternal war against the celestials and the necromancer Laraxle, who controlled… Sartana stopped thinking about it. He needed to keep his wits about him, and nostalgia only dulled the senses.

He listened intently to Sir Kingsley’s words. He didn’t want to insult him again- the demonhunter was sure he saw the sparkle leave the knights eyes after he asked his questions and pointed out what they should do next. He didn’t want to seem rude, but this was a dire situation.

The demonhunter nodded at the Drow’s suggestion of keeping the helpless citizens in such a holy place, where the vampires could not enter. But he wondered why the vampires could enter these private establishments in the first place? In his world, they were not allowed to enter a home with out specific permission to do so. They were also burned in sunlight, overpowered by the scent of garlic, and utterly destroyed if submerged in water. The demonhunter had fought quite a few vampires in his years as a hunter, and wondered if the ones in this plane were just as susceptible to these things. He thought of asking, but stopped when he heard the sound of battle from his right. He heard Sorrow’s words, and nodded. “I would have rather been wrong.”

Sartana preferred stealth over head-to-head combat, and lifted an eyebrow at Kingsley’s suggestion to ring the bell and summon the rest of the guards. It was too late to argue, though: the knight blasted the bell, sounding it through the town and alerting the vampires of the party’s presence, if they didn’t know it already. Sartana hoped this wouldn’t wake up the townspeople, who would wander outside and be picked off by the vampires.

While he was thinking, the knight dashed off towards the battle. He removed his sword from his shoulder. “He’s a brave bastard, isn’t he?” Sartana remarked to Sorrow, getting ready to sprint. The demonhunter liked that trait in people, and dashed towards the knight. In passing the command center, he thought he saw something. He could have swore one of the bodies- a man severed in half- was moving to reach his severed arm. The demonhunter needed to aid the knight, however, and rounded a corner, ignoring what he thought was his mind playing tricks on him. He caught up to Kingsley.

There were a several dozen men spread out over the street, fighting. But there was something off here. The demonhunter slowed and watched closer. The men were fighting each other. Sartana gasped. “Kingsley! Your men- half of them are dead! Look closely!” It was true. No vampires were present- only soldiers. Over half the men were missing limbs, and had cuts and swollen marks over their faces. Their bodies swayed and tipped, as if they were having trouble moving. One sat atop another, sinking its teeth into the arm of its former friend, feasting on his flesh. They were zombies.

The demonhunter wasted no time; he rushed to the aid of a soldier, a young blonde boy barely filling the chainmail he wore. Sartana jumped in front of him and decapitated the undead soldier preparing to overwhelm the boy. Sartana brought his sword low and entered his defensive stance.

( Hope you don’t mind the plot twist. >.> )

((OOC: Wow I got majorly left behind in that. Haha I like how everyone apart from Rayn appear the strongest in the group <_< ))

IC:

Rayn al Boha listened to everything that was said. To be honest he was only half listening. His heart was full of rage and his mind seemed foggy. He was having flashbacks to when he was around sixteen years old and a vampire had ripped the head off of his best friend. Rayn clenched his fists into balls. Suddenly he awoke from his thoughts as the sound of a small battle could be heard. Sir Kingsley dashed towards the fighting and the others in the group followed. Rayn couldn't help but laugh.

He pulled his hood over his head. Seems as if they have forgot about the Holy Knight in their group. To be honest in my opinon they are not thinking, they could be running right into a trap... Bravery and foolishness can sometimes be quite the same thing... Apart from the fact that bravery is usually for a good cause, where as foolishness is just stupid. Rayn shrugged his shoulders.

Mr Durgan looked at Rayn rather oddly. "Erm Sir Rayn... Shouldn't you be helping the others... I thought you said you were a Knight?" He said raising an eyebrow. Mr Durgan looked rather confused in the matter.

Rayn smiled. "Mr Durgan... I may be a Knight. A Holy Knight, once a famous thief named "Rayn The Rat" but to those crazy idiots I am nothing more then a boy." Rayn said a little annoyed.

Mr Durgan looked away. "Well Sir Rayn, you haven't really done a lot..." He said looking at the foor. Rayn couldn't help but laugh. "Mr Durgan! I haven't been given the chance! I just happened to meet a single vampire in an ally, which I killed... And had a few flashbacks from the past..." Rayn stopped talking.

Rayn paused and looked at Mr Durgan. "You are under the comand of Sir Kingsley... He told me to tell you to go and stand over their in the shadows and hide yourself until you see your other men..." Rayn said. Mr Durgan looked rather confused. "NOW!" Rayn shouted. The other man jumped and dashed off.

Rayn took a deep breath. I don't want him left around alone to be killed... He thought. Rayn smiled... A strange smile... The type of a smile a man has when he finally has chance to kill someone who had distroyed his whole life. Rayn ran and took action...

He ran towards the wall of a building, Rayn ran up the side of the wall and grapped the edge of it. He flipped him self up in a fluid motion and ran along the roof top with out making a single sound, his cape was tightly drawn around him and Rayn had always had the nack of shaping shadows around his body. I wonder how these vampires deal with a thief so good he became famous. Rayn thought with a grim smile.

Rayn noticed his first victim... A man sitting on the edge of the roof looking down at Sir Kingsley and the others. Rayn casted a small spell called "Infravison" so that he could see much more clearly in the darkness. He watched the man on the edge of the roof. The man smiled as he watched Sir Kingsley and his men below. Rayn noticed the white fangs and creeped forwards. He didn't make a single sound on the roof. Rayn came behind the vampire. He put an arm around its neck and with his free hand drove a stake through its heart. Rayn let go quickly and jumped back as the vampire caught fire.

Rayn knew that Sir Kingsley and the others would see the burning Vampire on the roof. Rayn ran forwards and kicked it in the back. The burning vampire fell from the roof and landing in the middle of the group...

It was then that Rayn figured out what was happening. There were dead guards everywhere... But the dead guards were infact moving... rather slowly... But they were in a sort of deadness alive kind of being. "Zombies!..." Rayn hissed to himself. Rayn drew his Holy Broadsword and held it high.

"In The Halls Of Valour! The Brave May Live Forever!" Rayn shouted. He then ran, jumped and flipped into the air. Like a bird be spun around and landed lightly on his feet on the floor. Bloody Hell that was luckly... Rayn thought, then saw a Zombie five feet away. Rayn focused on a flame inside his mind so that he could keep his flashbacks away. Rayn brought his flaming sword down with amazing speed and chopped the Zombie's head off. He then heard a deadish groan behind him. Rayn spun around and chopped a Zombie's arm off. He flipped back as he noticed these things didn't die easyily.

Rayn looked to his right and saw Sir Kingsley. "Did you miss me?" He asked with a laugh. Rayn then spun his flaming Holy BroadSword which did amazing damage to any evil creature. "Like my new toy?" Rayn said joking. He was fine now that he had the flame in his mind. If it wasn't for that, Rayn would be having awefull flashbacks.

Umbra seen the reactions of the people around her, Sir Kingsley saw it only as more information, Sartana saw it as only a story it seemed while Rayn probably wasn't listening. She looked at him, a knowing feeling flew through her mind as she understood the pain of losing a friend. Sir Kingsly soon shouted about a battle, she heard it as well. The elderly knight ran out the door soon followed by the Sartana. She stood still for a moment, she still had a thing about vampires, she never told them about the vampire lord trying to make her his wife; she considered it not valuable. "Erm Sir Rayn... Shouldn't you be helping the others... I thought you said you were a Knight?" Mr Durgan asked. His voice brought her out of her memories. Rayn smiled. "Mr Durgan... I may be a Knight. A Holy Knight, once a famous thief named "Rayn The Rat" but to those crazy idiots I am nothing more then a boy." Rayn said annoied. "Mr Durgan! I haven't been given the chance! I just happened to meet a single vampire in an ally, which I killed... And had a few flashbacks from the past..." Umbra winced, how many times has she wittnessed flashbacks from her past? Hundreds? Thousands? How many times did she wake up to the screams? She felt a singe of familiarity to Rayn.

Umbra pulled up her hood and looked at him. "It depends on who you are asking sir. To them you may be...But I know better than to underestimate any fighter for holyness. I know what it is like, loosing a friend...I did too. One who was closer to me than anyone will ever know. But that is another story for another time. What do you say we get these creatures for what their brother did to your friend....and to me." she said running out the door after him. She followed him but instead of going to the roof she jumped on the crates by it. She watched the guards and paused, something was not right. "Zombies!..." she heard from Rayn. She realized he was right. She gave a sharp whistle then dropped and dissappeared into the shadow of the crates. She swiftly moved and smiled finding herself behind the vampire nearby. "Say hi to your leader for me." she said stabbing it in the heart and immertging from the shadow.

((OOC: About the point on 'civilians rushing out to see what happens' when the bell is rung - the fact that the bell was being rung would probably signal to all civilians to lock themselves into their houses and stay indoors rather than venture outside. But feel free to have NPCs do as you wish if it suits your needs :) ))

When the sight of his men fighting amongst each other first filled his mind, Sir Kingsley was seriously confused. It was not until the demonhunter, who with several others had followed the Knight, called out that half the men were dead - the living dead - that Sir Kingsley surmised what was happening. Zombies! Not only were they facing a vampire incursion, but also a zombie epidemic! With no time to lose, the Knight rushed into the fray, using his momentum to shove one of the undead members of the Guard with his shoulder and save the old militiaman that was about to be its next victim. When the Knight then span round to catch the blade of another zombie-guardsman with his own sword, he found himself with the perfect opportunity to parry and counter-attack, but could not do so as he found himself staring into the cold, dead eyes of a man who was his friend.

His second-in-command, Captain Ilmo.

"Ilmo..." Sir Kingsley said in a startled voice as the zombie raised its blade before once more bringing it crashing down upon the sword of the Knight, "What have they done to you?!"

As he parried another strike from his opponent, and still feeling unable to make his own attack in retaliation, the burning-form of what seemed to be another vampire hit the ground next to the Knight, having apparently fallen from the roof. Looking up, Sir Kingsley saw that the young knight Rayn was leaping down to engage in the battle, and he could not help but feel guilty for previously underestimating that the young man would not be able to cope in such a situation as the one they were all in now. In this brief distraction, the undead Captain Ilmo almost caught Sir Kingsley in the arm with his blade, but the Knight was fast enough to deflect the blow away before swinging around and decapitating the zombie. The Knight immediately stumbled back in bewilderment, having not meant to make the lethal blow, but had instead merely reacted on the battle-instinct that had been drilled into him all his life.

"Did you miss me?" Came the voice of the young knight Rayn as he appeared next to Sir Kingsley, wielding a ferocious-looking broadsword, "Like my new toy?"

Allowing himself to forget the slaying of Captain Ilmo, Sir Kingsley turned his head to Rayn before replying,

"Your new toy looks very impressive, my young comrade. Let us hope you put it to good use!"

The Knight could say no more, however, as he rushed to the side to step in and parry a blow aimed at one of the Inn regulars who had accompanied him into the fray. Counter-attacking, the Knight kicked into the chest of the zombie attacker so that it fell to the ground, where the axes of three armed men soon put an end to it. It was at this point that the Knight saw that the burning vampire who had fallen from the roof above was not entirely finished off, having got to its feet despite being aflame. Cutting down two of the still-living militiamen with remarkable agility, the vampire began rushing around causing chaos in the street melee. Unable to rush over in time to stop the vampire killing again, Sir Kingsley reached over to where one of his dead militiamen lay in the mud and grabbed his short spear before making his aim and throwing it like a javelin towards the vampire. The spear pierced the evil creature straight through where the heart could be found, and it sooned turned to dust before everyone's eyes. However, in performing the throw, Sir Kingsley had left himself exposed to enemy attack, and the act of dodging an unexpected blow from a nearby zombie guardsmen forced the Knight to throw himself to the floor, raising his blade to stop the enemy's axe as he lay on his back in the street. Realising that he would probably have serious bruising on his back the next day, and cursing his opponent for it, the Knight kicked upwards and sent the zombie backwards to disappear into the melee. Standing up straight, Sir Kingsley began scouting out the battle that was going on, trying to find some sort of leader in the whole conflict.....

Rayn dodged the swift sword swing from a Zombie Soldier. He spun around to the side using perfect swordsman footwork he hit the Zombie in the face with the hilt of his sword. Rayn then jumped up into the air and spun kicking it in the face. He cleaved it's right arm off before he landed behind the Zombie. Rayn then ducked as the Zombie spun swinging with its left fist. Rayn swung his leg around and kicked the Zombie's feet from under it. The Zombie fell face first into the mud making a splash. Rayn didn't pause but brought his firey sword down and took the creatures head off. Rayn said a prayer as he looked down at the Zombie Soldier. He most likely has a family here somewhere in the village... Rayn thought.

Rayn heard a woman scream. Rayn spun around and saw a Zombie beating down a village house's door. Rayn held his sword above his head and with all his strenght he launched it across the battle. Rayn's sword flew through the air and struck the Zombie in the back. The Zombie instantly became alight in white flames. Rayn laughed as he realised he had saved the woman in her home. It was then that Rayn realised he had no sword. A Zombie came walking towards Rayn. Rayn drew a stake from under his coat... "Look... how about... erm... you give me five minutes... so i can go get my sword?" Rayn said looking around. "Arraagghhh." was the only responce the Zombie gave.

Rayn shrugged... "Guess thats a no then?" He said. Rayn flipped backwards spun around and ran towards where his sword was stuck in the burning Zombie.

OoC: (Damn, you guys work fast… I’ve got a lot to catch up on lol)

In spite of Sorrow’s advice, Sir Kingsley insisted that the group charge out of the command post and aid the patrol that was being attacked. Sorrow sighed, wishing that he might have been fighting alongside someone with a slightly cooler head. Shrugging, he followed the rest of the group out of the barracks-house, dashing once again into the pouring rain. Thunderheads clashed overhead in a brilliant display of lightning as they ran through the narrow, muddy streets of Estolad. The constant patter of the rain beating down on the thatch roofs was overwhelmed by the clang of steel and the shouts of battle.

Sorrow had a hard time running through the thick mud; it splashed up his back and onto the cuffs of his pants, and the mud seemed to suck at his feet, as if it hungered for his shoes. Sorrow turned a corner, his elven dexterity beginning to fade away. Some of the civilians panted out of breath, but they had little time to recover from the mad dash. The battle raged in front of them, a frantic skirmish that look more like a mob battle than the fighting of an organized battalion. He cocked his head to one side, noticing the apparent lack of any vampiric enemies. It seemed as though one battalion of soldiers was attacking the other. Sorrow swept his wet hair back away from his eyes with one hand, trying to get a better look.

He cringed, realizing that necromancy must be at work here. The soldiers were not fighting live combatants, but rather un-dead militimen. Sorrow took in the full implication after a second; there was another powerful sorcerer in the town. No vampire could have worked such incredibly strong magic as this, and if his suspicions proved true, then that same necromancer was probably leading the vampires as well. He shuddered at the thought of a black wizard powerful enough to do all of this. He also realized that they would have to recover and burn all of the bodies from this fight in order to prevent them from being made into more enemies.

Sorrow leapt over the strike of one zombie, flipping through the air and landing on the other side. The zombie stared forward dumbly, wondering where it’s target had gone. Sorrow took no mercy, summoning a ball of fire and sending it smashing into the zombie. It groaned in pain, falling to the ground under the effects. The rain could not douse the arcane fire, and the body was soon turned to ashes. Sorrow had little time to watch, however, as he was immediately attacked to two more zombies. He ran forward, jumping and flipping through the air, sending bolts of powerful holy magic flying every which way. The bolts of energy slammed into zombies, piercing holes and causing incredible amounts of holy damage. As un-dead, they were heavily susceptible to the Holy spell.

Sorrow stopped several times over the broken bodies of some not-yet-dead soliders. They had suffered heavy wounds, some of them mortal. Sorrow laid his hands across their bodies, allowing blue magic to sprinkle from his fingertips like gently falling snow. It landed on the injured soliders, healing them of their wounds and reviving them with holy energy. However, Sorrow was saddened to find that several of the militiamen had fallen under the zombie’s onslaught. Great as his healing powers were, Sorrow could not cheat death.

Making his way through the fray, Sorrow worked through three more zombies before finally coming alongside Sir Kingsley, who was steadily hacking his way through the enemies. He seemed distraught to be killing his own militiamen, but Sorrow knew that there was no point in weeping for them. They were minions of whatever sorcerer was at work here; they were no longer the friends Kingsley had once known. Blasting through one more zombie, Sorrow yelled to Kingsley over the roar of the skirmish.

“There is powerful dark magic at work here. Whatever resurrected these soldiers is probably leading the vampires as well. He is not here, but he is certainly within the town limits. We need to find him in order to stop this.” Sorrow was cut off, however, as a zombie came between he and Kingsley. Leaping to one side, Sorrow was swept away from the commander by the ebb and flow of battle. Sighing, he continued to fight his way through the thinning ranks of enemy soldiers.

(( Tell me about it. >.> ))

Sartana took a step back, putting his back to nearby building, watching the battle unfold. He had been correct- necromancy was at work here. But who had risen the dead guards as zombies? Many vampires wielded magical powers, and being undead, they had a natural affinity to the necromantic arts. Yet to slay these guards and raise so many of them as minions.. This would take a significant amount of magical prowess. Could a vampire have such power? Or was there another powerful being in league with them? A sorcerer, or necromancer lord?

The blond boy the demonhunter had saved earlier collapsed next to Sartana, breathing heavily, holding his broadsword close to the ground. He looked up at him, and sighed, shaking his head, a sorrow-filled expression on his face. “I.. I just can't fight them. They were my friends.” He leaned against the cold stone building, shaking his head helplessly. “How could this happen?”

Sartana looked at the boy, and then at the battle unfolding. His new friends were doing well against the undead soldiers. He watched as Kingsley cried out to one of his men, now his enemy and attacking him. With a quick, well-placed repose, he decapitated the former ally, its body dropping to the ground in a lump of metal and rotten flesh The demonhunter shook his head, watching Kinsgley and then turning to the boy next to him. Being forced to fight one's friends- it was terrible.

But there were more important things at hand. The demonhunter scanned the rooftops, and then the alleyways around the battle-zone. He wasn't worried about the zombies; they were strong, but slow-moving and unskilled. Few of them even remembered how to wield a sword, and several resorted to clawing at a militiaman with his hands. What worried the demonhunter was the vampires that created these zombies. His eyes fell on the man wielding a magical blade. He quickly dispatched a vampire in front of him on the rooftop, sending it plummeting to the ground below. The demonhunter lifted an eyebrow: who was this? Something caught his eye a building over in an alleyway. It was the half demon. She stood on a pile of crates, weapon drawn. The demonhunter eyed her, hand on sword. Was she in league with the vampires? Just then she dropped out of view. Was she fleeing? Sartana prepared to chase her, but stopped at the site of a blast of dust from behind the crates- a sign of a vampire being obliterated. Sartana shook his head. She was indeed helping. He turned to the boy.

“Head back to the command center and get any more men that are not here yet, or arrived after your leader, Sir Kingsley, rung the bell. Go!” He commanded, turning his head and stalking towards and alleyway. The boy did as he was told- he scrambled to his feet and made his way towards the command center. Sartana twisted mist around his hand and rounded a corner into an alleyway, having sensed an evil presence, undoubtedly a vampire.

He was correct. On all fours above a stack of crates was a vampire, mouth wide and grinning with two supernaturally large canines gleaming in the dark. It leapt at him, hands outstretched and aimed for his neck. The demonhunter crouched and kicked off the ground, throwing himself to the side. The vampire flew past him, landing deftly in the street. Sartana jumped to his feet and found the vampire on top of him, grabbing at his head in an effort to crush it. The demonhunter tilted his head and brought his left hand up to the vampires mouth, smashing into it and knocking out a fistful of teeth. The creature stumbled back- horrified- and received a metal blade through the eye, compliments of the demonhunter. It exploded in a shower of dust. Sartana found himself near Kingsley, who appeared to be scouting as the Demonhunter had been. He worked his way over to him, knocking over zombies and aiding anyone he could. The militiamen were doing well. He finally got to Kingsley's side. “Hello Kingsley.” Sartana said, holding his sword low and defensively. “There are vampires watching the battle, as I'm sure you know. Have you spotted a leader?” He asked, eyeing the area around him.

Just then, the demonhunter caught a blast of fire from his right. The mage had entered the fray. Sartana grinned. Magic users were very useful. Frail, but very powerful. He wondered if the dark elf would be okay in the middle of combat; usually wizards would hang back and pelt their enemies form a distance with spells. He turned his head at the sound of Sorrow's voice. “There is powerful dark magic at work here.” The drow called over the clatter of battle. “Whatever resurrected these soldiers is probably leading the vampires as well. He is not here, but he is certainly within the town limits. We need to find him in order to stop this.” The demonhunter nodded, prodding a zombie with his sword, holding it back from getting closer to him. They would need to engage this necromancer. But first they had to get things under control in the town, organizing the guard. He wondered what Kingsley would do.

Rayn ran over to where his sword was stuck in a flaming Zombie and pulled it out. He let the Zombie fall to the floor. Rayn looked through the door and saw a women. Her face was white with fear. "Close the door! and stay inside!" Rayn said in a comanding voice. He then spun around and looked at the battle. The Zombie's were pretty useless at fighting. Rayn had hardly been hurt mainly because they were slow and he had lightning fast reactions. Rayn ran over to Sir Kingsley. When he got there the Demon Hunter also appeared next to the Knight. Rayn quickly scanned the area and found they had time to talk.

“There is powerful dark magic at work here. Whatever resurrected these soldiers is probably leading the vampires as well. He is not here, but he is certainly within the town limits. We need to find him in order to stop this.” The Demon Hunter said having to shout over the fighting. He was then swept away as a Zombie got inbetween them. Rayn jumped forwards and fly kicked the Zombie in the chest sending the slow creature stumbling backwards. He turned to Sir Kingsley. "Seems my tumbling lessons paided off. By the way, we are being watched all around. I have a feeling this is a trap... We need to get all the soldiers who aren't dead into the centre so we can form some sort of defence instead of this shambles of a fight!" Rayn said loadly. "Also if you want I can run around on the roof tops and watch the Vampires... Maybe kill a few by surprise... but more importantly I can give a warning for when they attack!" Rayn said waiting for an answer.

Umbra jumped back into the shadows watching Rayn destroy a few zombies. Hmmm. Necromacy, an art known well to those who prey on those who are already dead. Who is behind this? What are their motives for attacking these people? she wondered as she cast her Cloak of Shadows to blend with the darkness. She felt the shadows cover her as she watched. The others continued to fight hard. She placed her hand on the ground and closed her eyes. She allowed her mind to embrace the sensation of the energies around her as she scryed. She saw Rayn and the others as well as the citizens of Estolad. But she was concentrating on one particular source of energy. She searched everywhere for it.

Suddenly she felt it, a dark presence that she knew well. It was masked by a veil, something to stop her scrying but the energy she felt within knew it was him. "We are in big trouble." she whispered as she opened her eyes. A vampire crept close to her, it reached out to grab her when it felt a pain in its chest. Pearcing its heart was the hilt of a dagger. A second later it exploded into gold dust and she grabbed her dagger. “Whatever resurrected these soldiers is probably leading the vampires as well. He is not here, but he is certainly within the town limits. We need to find him in order to stop this.” she heard. She nodded but was silent as she watched from her position.

She looked around for something when a vampire caught her sight, Also if you want I can run around on the roof tops and watch the Vampires... Maybe kill a few by surprise... but more importantly I can give a warning for when they attack!" Rayn said. She seen it as it dashed silently through the shadows...Straight towards Rayne. "RAYN!" she said as she teleported behind him slashing the vampire in the heart. It screamed in pain and exploded, gold dust rained on the couple. "Its going to be hard to avenge your friend if you are dead. Keep your eyes out my friend, the vampire lord is near. I can feel him." she said, giving the warning out louder than the tone she used to talk to Rayn. She stood still a shiver went down her spine, he was near."I can smell him. He's close. Kieraline protect us with your light. Rayn your idea would be best at a time like this but be wary. The vampire lord is fraught with the ability to control minds. Trust me I know." she said as she looked around, she knew he would go for her. But was it a mistake not telling them what happend to her in the vampire monster?

"RAYN!" Umbra said as she teleported behind Rayn slashing the vampire in the heart. It screamed in pain and exploded, gold dust rained on the couple. "Its going to be hard to avenge your friend if you are dead. Keep your eyes out my friend, the vampire lord is near. I can feel him." she said, giving the warning out louder than the tone she used to talk to Rayn. She stood still a shiver went down her spine, he was near."I can smell him. He's close. Kieraline protect us with your light. Rayn your idea would be best at a time like this but be wary. The vampire lord is fraught with the ability to control minds. Trust me I know." she said as she looked around.

Rayn quickly scanned the battle field once more. The Zombies were now the out numbered ones and were being slaughtered by the soldiers which were still alive. He smiled at Umbra. "Thanks! I owe you one!" He said with his usual grin. Rayn couldn't believe he had let a vampire get so close up behind him. He looked at Sir Kingsley "So shall I vanish onto the roof tops?" Rayn asked. "I will be able to see if any Vampire Lords happen to turn up..." Rayn said. He could feel unseen eyes on his back right this moment.

I just want to kill as many of these evil vampire creatures as possible, they killed Jimmy! He did nothing wrong! Monsters! I will stab my sword through their heart and watch them scream! They can go back to hell! Vampire Lord?! Ha! I will die trying to kill him if I must! Rayn thought a dangerous light shining in his eyes.

The clash of metal on metal began to lessen, and Sorrow found himself standing alone in the midst of the battlefield, panting and out of breath. The zombies were defeated, and the fighting had not lasted even ten minutes, and yet it felt like much longer. The constant danger of battle seemed to press hard on the mind and quickly tire the body. His brow was furrowed in a look of concentration. His Drow nature had begun to creep over his mind during the fighting, and once it had begun it’s advance, Sorrow was hard-pressed to keep it hidden. He whispered prayers to Lothlomendil for the souls of the fallen men. They were simple prayers, by no means formal, but they gave him a slight comfort.

Regaining himself, Sorrow walked over to where Sir Kingsley and the others were standing. Rayn had been dispatched to the rooftops, where he was hunting the vampires that had observed the fighting. Sorrow knew that they had probably fled by now, but he still wished the knight luck with whatever battle he could find. It struck Sorrow as slightly odd that the thatched roofs would hold an armored knight, but he shrugged his shoulders in indifference. Rayn seemed to be getting along just fine.

Sorrow came to where Kingsley stood with his two-handed sword drawn. The man was obviously distraught, but Sorrow knew that the man’s discipline would overcome in time. “Kingsley,” he said, “We need to burn the bodies here to prevent them from being used for more necromancy. Once the bodies are destroyed, they are of no use in such evil rituals.” Sorrow called out to several of the militiamen to begin piling the bodies. They had no time to transport them outside of the town limits; they would have to be burned in the streets. Sorrow noticed women and children peeking out of half-closed windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the action.

The balefire contained the bodies of at least twenty men, either dead or un-dead. Most of the zombies had been hacked to pieces, as dismembering them was the only way to effectively kill them. Sorrow sighed his sadness, knowing that many of the men in the pile were far too young to have died such a violent death. Finally, the piling completed, and after giving up a small prayer, he lit fire to the pile with magic. The arcane fires were unaffected by the rain that beat down upon them; they would continue to burn until he dispelled them, or until they ran out of something to burn. Sorrow bowed his head and removed his hood in reverence, not wanting to watch as the corpses were consumed by the fire. Black smoke coiled up through the rain as Sorrow, Kingsley, Sartana, and Umbra stood overlooking the bloody streets of Estolad.

Umbra slashed at the Zombies. She did not feel sympathy for the Zombies but for the beings who would not recieve a peacefull death. As the fighting died down she felt somewhat tired. She still had a majority of her Mana left but she still was tired from the battle. She sighed as finally the battle in the square was over, but she did not relax, this battle was far from over. We need to burn the bodies here to prevent them from being used for more necromancy. Once the bodies are destroyed, they are of no use in such evil rituals.” Sorrow said. Umbra nodded and helped the men pile the bodies. As the men lit the fire she stood by Rayn. She bowed her head and prayed silently. Kieraline, watch over their souls and lead them with your light