Fight:Feeding Time

Nazarus walks in the room as a chilling breeze comes from his direction he looks around and notices a cute lady at the bar and starts walking towards her.

Nazarus looks at the beautiful lady and says, "Hello my dear, My name is Nazarus may I have the pleasure of knowing yours?" As she turns to Nazarus with a big smile on her face and says. "My name is Patty and what you doing here cutey?"

Rayala would stride into the bar confidently, her arms swinging at her sides. The gash on her leg having been healed expertly by a friend, she would no longer be limping as she had been earlier that day. Her clothing -- freshly laundered, thanks to a nearby river -- smells sweet, like flowers. Her hair, untangled despite her recent adventures with the wind, lies straight and bright, halfway down her back. She would smile to Nancy before ordering a glass of whiskey. She seats herself comfortably while she waits, swinging short legs from the stool playfully.

Nazarus looks into Patty's eyes and says, "Taking a break from a hard days work trying to wind down for the night so would you like another drink?" As Patty starts to feel on his arm and says, "sure handsome I'll take a scotch on the rocks." As Nazarus snaps his finger to the bartender and orders the drink.

Nazarus sits comfortable next to Patty talking about her day and being very touchy with each other as they giggle and laugh the night away.

Rayala spares a glance to the man at the bar. She's seen him before, she knows, somewhere, but can't quite place it. Rather than think too long on it, the easily-distracted girl would swing her pack around, looking for her money pouch, to get the coin to pay the barkeep. She smiles when she retrieves it, laughs in a manner resembling the tinkling of the coins now in her hand when the glass is presented to her. She would down the glass -- no longer does the girl cough from the whiskey. Rather, she finds she enjoys it, especially the way it burns. "Reminds me of breathing fire," she says, to no one in particular. Nancy gives her a look, like "oh, that's nice", before moving on to another patron. She allows her eyes to fall upon the other patrons of the tavern once more. The girl at the bar. The man.

Nazarus after a few hours has passed and Patty says, "I didn't mean to stay up this late I should be going but it was nice to meet you mr. Nazarus." As she tries to walk out of the bar she stumbles to the floor.

Nazarus smiles towards Patty and says, "Well my dear should I help you get home I'd feel horrible if I was the cause of you not getting a good nights sleep. Patty turns towards Nazarus and says. "Yes that's very sweet of you I live a little ways in the forest south of here. 


Nazarus gets up and helps Patty to her feet as they start to walk out of the bar.

Nazarus decides to just pick her up and carry her with both his arms as they exit the bar,


Nazarus exits south.

Rayala finishes her drink and moves to leave the bar as well. She would be slightly concerned by the woman stumbling, but makes nothing of it. She would have no reason to be concerned, after all. She laughs, a little, and toasts them in her head. "A good night, I hope, for them," she says to Nancy as she leaves.

Nazarus asks Patty, "Which way?" As she turns and says, "Go left"
Nazarus exits west.

Nazarus notices Patty pointing to the building south as she says, "You can let me down we're almost there."
Nazarus exits south.

Nazarus sets Patty down on her feet as she walks to the door to the left and says, "I stay here the city has been so nice to me to let me live in the town hall till I get back on my feet." Then Patty asks, "Would you like to come in Nazarus there's plenty of room."


Nazarus walks up to Patty and says, "Sure I'd love to come in." Patty starts to unlock the door as Nazarus walks up behind her and starts to kiss on her neck as Patty says, "Stop it now mr. Nazarus I know we're both a little frisky but I don't think tonight we should do anything."

Rayala had followed a similar path as the couple. She would walk amiably down the street, enjoying the air. The wind would tickle her nose, slightly, and she'd laugh before sneezing, harshly, twice. She sniffs, "thanks a lot" she murmurs. As if in response, the wind would chill, slightly, blaze past the nape of the dragoness' neck and Rayala would shiver. "Psh..." she says, delicately, affectionately, to the breeze. She pauses, outside of the town hall, wondering why the couple -- a good ways ahead of her -- would have entered such a place at this hour of the night. Her brow knits together. Perhaps a party? She would shrug before considering moving on. She would see them from a window, see what the man would do. She wouldn't mean to spy, especially not having had trysts in the past, but the scream would be too much for her to bear. She rushes to aid. As she passes a window, however, she sees the lady from the bar drunkenly trying to push Nazarus away. She runs to the window, bangs upon the glass. "Hey!" she shouts. Wind ruffles her clothing, egging her on. She runs inside. "Stop that!"

Nazarus looks around only to see a lady off in the distance so he tries to be quiet as his fangs grow and he wraps his arms around Patty's body holding her tight. Then he sicks his fangs deep into Patty's neck. Patty starting to panic and get away but is too drunk to fight back as she cries for help from anyone. Nazarus quickly tries to grab her mouth to keep her quiet as he tries to get the job done quickly.

Nazarus lets go of Patty's body as she falls to the floor unconscious as the vampire has noticed he had been spotted runs away from the town hall before getting in trouble with the authorities. As he is running towards Rayala he noticed she was one of the people in the tavern tonight, As in the back of his mind he was thinking, "Just my luck to be caught by another drunk."


Nazarus exits north.

Rayala growls a low, throaty noise. Her grey eyes harden and would flash black for the first time since arriving in this land, previously only having hints of gold. She struggles to contain herself, her anger, to not give in to her father's heritage, but rather finds herself bursting forth. "What are you doing? Why are you doing that!" The dragoness would approach the pair at a run, "Cruel, cruel man! Do you not hear her cries?" She moves to grab his shoulder, to wrench him away.
 You frowns as the man rushes past her, leaving the building. She goes to the woman. Unconscious. Absent-mindedly she moves to heal the girl, does the best she can before chasing the man into the street.

Rayala, having moved to take the man away, repeats her earlier words. "Cruel man. Did you not hear her cries?" She had moved to grab the man, to wrench him away from the girl, but instead had to chase him out into the street. She frowns at him. "What were you thinking!" she steps forward, screaming, now, getting in his face. "You -hurt- her. She -liked- you!"

Nazarus said to you, "my child it was nothing personal but I do not have time to explain sorry and forget you ever seen me as he turns and makes a run for it through the sage forest."

Nazarus exits east.

Rayala chases after him, she would throw herself at him, tackling him to the ground. "You -hurt- that girl." she insists. "How could it possibly not be personal." All trace of the ditzy, playful young lady would be gone. Rather, she would be fierce -- and forgetful of the advice she had once received to not hit anything harder than her fist. She contemplates hitting the man, but rather holds on to him, tightening her grip. "I healed her. You have to apologize," she snarls.

Nazarus looks at Rayala for annoying him this night after things was going so well for him as he turns and he tells Rayala, "that woman was pathetic and weak she was a town whore who was left with nothing after her man left her and she decided to be nothing instead of embracing life and picking her feet up and pushing forward. If anything I helped her because now her blood runs through these veins her life had a purpose which is to keep the strong living. Now young lady I advise you to go about your way and leave me be I would rather not kill someone who seems to have a lot to live for."

Rayala stands upon her feet, resenting the use of the word "whore" but all the more resenting that this so-called-man would deem himself enough to judge who has the right to life anymore. "You cowardly fool," she says, in an attempt to snarl. "Are you so strong?" she inquires of him, grinding her teeth once the sentence is complete. She steps forward. She closes her eyes, asks the earth to open. Vines would creep out -- from trees, from the earth. Some would mutate into flowers, belying the girl's weakness for color, but others would move towards the man's feet, meaning to bind him there until he would agree to apologize.

Nazarus grins towards Rayala as he seems the vines approaching him. Nazarus starts a chant as you feel the air around us start to come to a chill and the smoke of ice starts to come off of Nazarus' hands as he puts them on the ground and starts to freeze the vines as they come towards him, Nazarus looks up at Rayala laughing and says, "Little girl you have to do better than that to take down a servant of Vakarash."

Callamyre may not be as sensitive to the air around her as she was before, but nevertheless, the woman sensed a crackling in the air: magic! Her curiosity was overwhelming, and without further ado, she hunted it down, coming across the clearing within which Rayala and Nazarus faced down. Being new to this land, and having no idea what was going on, the woman decided, at least for now, to remain a passive bystander, at least until she decided if it was worth it or not to intervene. Her hazel eyes glowed with excitement though, the woman never passing up an opportunity to see the "native species" at work.

Rayala growls once more. All trace of gold -- and her usual, neutral grey -- gone from her eyes as he kills her plants. She clenches her fists, unclenches them once more. Wind would whip dangerously around the pair of them, whipping branches and leaves from trees, unintentionally. She shivers from the cold -- having touched the vines she had called forth, she would be distracted by it, hurt by it. She pulls back as many as she can -- other plants flee into gaps she has created, leaving a strange, flattened area. The wind would continue to blow. "I am not a child and you would do well not to treat me as such. I have lived among dragons and men and you are not the first I would want to teach a lesson." She steps backwards, a moment, wishing for her wings, wishing to fly away, but being firmly rooted upon the spot. In the strong wind, the girl would stumble, slightly. She waits, defensively, for Nazarus' next move. Unintentionally, a branch would whip towards the man before her at a fierce speed. Would he not dodge it, it would threaten to pierce his chest.

Nazarus is excited to no end as he is getting more from this young woman than he had expected his adrenaline rushing ready for a fight he has not had in so long. Nazarus watches Rayala's wind and wants to test how powerful she can make the wind blow as Nazarus starts to chant a spell of defense a wall of ice starts to form around the vampire chanting in drow the wall slowly moves up. However Nazarus miss timed the spell and was stabbed by the branch the pain hurting and exciting him as well. Nazarus starts to lose his cool with the dragon and yells out, "You Impudent fool how dare you stab me which such feeble magic. I AM NAZARUS A CHAMPION OF VAKARASH AND I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED BY SOME LITTLE BRAT WHO DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT SHE IS FIGHTING FOR." As Nazarus starts to chant his ultimate technique taught to him by his elders in Trist'oth. The air around everyone becoming so cold it starts to cause frostbite. Several swords of ice start to surround Rayala from above and below her all ready to strike at once. Nazarus stops chanting as the blades thrust themselves forward as Nazarus hopes this finishes off the young dragon.

Christian was drawn to the area by an unseen force, perhaps the wind itself writhing in agony as a result of the foul magicks which emanated from Nazarus; he truthfully hadn't been in a rush until overwhelming cold breezed over his form, sending shivers to his core. It had been his call to eliminate the world of these forces; however, without his sword, he had been on an extended hiatus, he felt powerless, incapable of action, yet the marking upon his right arm had other intentions; it whispered to the Kensei, aching to be granted release from its prison, practically burning the skin on which it resided. Opposing hand rolled the sleeve which shielded Amos from vision, ethereal plating fading into reality before manifesting into corporeality: a dragon-maw gauntlet, once only covering Christian's forearm, was ushered into existence, now shielding the entirety of his arm. It had grown, as if it had fed from the magicks it had encountered, consumed and neutralized them to further its own agenda. Despite the darkness, Christian squinted from quite a ways away, an attempt at allocating the source of the bitter cold, yet to no avail: there remained a single option, a blind-shot. It was worth the risk; after all, the effects of the blast didn't have much effect on the living beyond dazing, perhaps temporarily blinding them. Right arm flailed forth, left hand resting underneath elbow to act as a support before a faint flicker could be spotted from the maw of his gauntlet, steadily growing in intensity. It may have taken awhile to reach fruition, perhaps enough time for Nazarus to make another move against Rayala even, yet when Amos had fully charged, a cylindrical blast was fired from its maw, piercing through the darkness with light which, in contrast to the night, was blinding. Should it hit Nazarus, the effects would be uncertain; it may latch onto him, as an attempt to weaken him, or it may attempt to entirely eradicate him from existence. It hadn't been tested against someone of such evil.

Rayala does not control the wind directly, of course -- she never has. Rather, as though trying to help, the wind would seem to act of its own accord, in tandem with the girl who is tiring, fast. Rayala cannot hear the words which Nazarus begins to chant over the wind that would continue to rage around the pair of them, but would see its effect: the wall of ice, moving upwards. Hardly a duelist by nature, the woman winces as her opponent is stabbed. "Sorry!" she calls, and the wind begins to fade a little. She would wish once again for a dragon form, for her scales, for her fire -- anything to shield her from, or, indeed, penetrate, the icy chill that permeates the air. Though she had not been able to hear the vampire's chant, she does hear his yell, his voice piercing her ears with its intensity. She blinks, ever more tired, and moves to immobilize Nazarus once more. A look of concentration would pass her face -- a rarity, to be sure, upon the flighty young woman -- but it would not seem out of place. She focuses energy into the earth, calling a shield for herself, the vines, again, but stronger. "You who have survived winters," she murmurs, "you who would survive this, please" she begins to plead. "Aid me." She forgets herself a moment, but her call would work. The earth, green once more, would rise up from the ground in the hopes of shattering the still-growing shield of the man who stands before her. Similarly, leaves fall from trees, mutate and change as they do, into heavy bark, into other vines, hoping to press the man to the ground, to incapacitate him before more damage can be done. It is then she notices more chanting, the increased cold. She shivers violently -- with exhaustion in addition to the cold -- but her extremities burn: the first stage of frosbite. She would look up to find swords of ice surrounding her, as her flora would surround Nazarus. In anger at herself, at the vampire, Ray would call the wind, consciously, for perhaps the first time. It comes, hesitantly, attempting to sway the blades even as it knows it cannot shatter them entirely. Some of the points would break off of the swords above her, falling upon her face, causing her skin to cut and bleed. Her blood would freeze as it falls, and she flinches. She looks down and sees more swords. She feels trapped, frantic, and the wind, in anger, would race towards Nazarus to push him back, to disrupt his chanting, but it is too late. As Nazarus' voice stops, Rayala is able to avoid some blades but hardly all. The vines which had failed to subdue Nazarus (though hopefully some had hit their mark) would come to her aid, sacrificing themselves to the ice-swords, stopping their strike. She cries out in pain, in shock, as each falls, but would feel even worse when three would pierce her. In racing to avoid all, she has caused herself to rush into the path of these, not quick or dexterous enough to escape their blade. One slashes her face, sideways, racing across her flesh as she turns her head to avoid being pierced entirely. It would meet her eyes, first, before peeling the skin from her cheek. Another would make better contact, slashing her chest. As she falls, it twists, gouges her from her breast to the hip, across her body. Still another would pierce her arm, fully through, pinning her to the ground. She moves to scream again, but no sound would come out. She would move to flee, too, but cannot move from where she has fallen. In a last ditch attempt, she takes a shuddering breath, and calls the wind to take a sword -- any remaining sword, and beat the man before her as viciously as it would be able.

Nazarus body feels the effects of the wind as it forces him back from walking towards Rayala to deliver a finishing blow. The vines preventing his damage had taken him by surprise for he did not think the dragon had that much power. As Nazarus tries to gain his footing he notices the wind picking up the blades around Rayala and throwing themselves back at him. Nazarus tries to dodge by jumping back but the wind is too strong as he is knocked back into the tree, Several of the swords stab Nazarus and holds him in the tree pinning him making Nazarus unable to move. Blood gushing from the vampire's body looking down at Rayala and smiling as he says, "Little girl" as he coughs up blood from his mouth. "Your a lot tougher than I gave you credit for. If we survive this I would like you to work by my side I will make you stronger than you are now." Nazarus starts to pull out the swords from his body and using his blood to heal himself. Right before he took the final sword out of his chest he hears something coming for him from the forest. He sees a blinding light headed straight for him and as a reflex tries to stop the blast with his hands. The pain rushing through his body the vampire manages to start chanting a spell draining the life from his surroundings giving him the strength needed to stay alive a little long while he manages to turn the blast to the side as it kept going through the forest towards Cenril. With one last roar Nazarus pulls out the sword in his chest and starts to walk towards the walls of Larket as he can barely walk he collapses to the ground. Luckily for Nazarus the guards of Larket heard the fighting and came to help as they notice their Sheriff on the ground they pick him up and take him back to his city as they prepare to heal their sheriff.

Callamyre remained in place, half-hidden by the trees, and peeked around one such sapling in open curiosity. One part of her knew she should intervene, but she didn't know on whose behalf; another ripple of energy pulled her attention to Christian, and her eyes narrowed as she tried to make out what he was doing. Soon enough, though, she realized he was trying to help, and turned her hazel eyes - brimming with gold as she grew more and more agitated over the situation - toward Rayala, whom she assumed was a sort of druid or terramancer. At each attack upon the girl, Calla felt compelled to act, but her ignorance of the overall situation kept her out of harm's way. Pursing her pale lips tightly together, the befreckled woman felt helpless as she watched up, torn between assisting Rayala and avoiding fights which didn't concern her.

Christian could feel the calm return, the air having soothed from its perpetual turbulence. Really, he would've pursued Nazarus if he had been close enough, or if he even felt like it; there would've been another opportunity, though: of this, he was sure. Regardless of the fleeting presence, the Kensei still made his way toward its direction, only to find Rayala. It wasn't concern that marked his eyes, despite her pinned-to-the-ground status, it was arrogance and humor, which vocalized itself, "Pretty torn up, aren't you? Really, I'm amazed that I hit that. Score: Me, one, bad guys, zilch. Really, though, you're bleeding." Eyes shifted to Callamyre. "Help me out?"

Rayala sees a flash of light, but would recognize nothing about it at all. She would barely register it as light -- and she can see nothing of her immediate surroundings. Likewise, it doesn't phase the girl, already dazed and blinded, and so may not have further effect, even should it glance her as it passes on its way to Cenril. In pain and struggling to stay conscious, Rayala clutches at the ground around her. Her head falls backwards. Everything muddled, the dragon would not be able to make sense of much of anything. It takes a while for the last words Nazarus speaks to her to penetrate her brain and make their way into the realm of her conscious thought and, thus, understanding. "No." she would try to form, but nothing louder than a whisper would reach the world around. Eventually, she lets loose of the ground with her left arm, moves to grab the sword out of her right, where it pins her. Her body begins to shake, though she blissfully registers that she is warmer, now. She would hear Calla rather than see her. Not having noticed the girl before, she wonders, anxiously, who is there. As her fingers attempt to lift the sword, to pull, she finds them too coated with blood to do anything but slide upon the blade. Indeed, the blade slices her fingers as she tries, furthering the problem. She begins to beseech whoever is there, means to plead for help, but she hears a somewhat familiar voice. She growls at his words, though -- recognizing the tone of his voice rather than his actual voice. She finds it in her to growl but would be surprised to find it coming out as a gurgle, instead.

Callamyre tilted her head, chocolate-hued curls twisted around her shoulder. With pursed lips, she watched as the population of Larket dragged Nazarus away, a frown tugging at her lips. Clucking her tongue, it was only then that she moved forward, just as Riss looked toward her for assistance. The blood that tainted Rayala caused her to hesitate, and that golden glimmer in her eyes flashed, once, briefly before fading to give way to her natural hazel. With a pinched, wary smile, the scientist stepped quickly into the clearing, her eyes sweeping the area to assess the environment more fully than she had before. "This is no good," she mumbled to herself, shaking her head. Every step that drew her nearer to Rayala caused her own skin to pale, ever so slightly, but her eyes were warm as they switched from Riss, to Rayala, and back again. "Is there a healer nearby?" she asked of the male. "Or a doctor?" Hiding a wince at her proximity to the bleeding dragon, she knelt down beside her, chewing on her lip. "Gods be damned." She hissed out a curse, then looked back to Riss. "Are you strong enough to dislodge it?"

Christian grabbed the sword which pierced through Rayala by its hilt and dislodged it, yet didn't quite discard it. It may have been slipped into his robes for keepsake, effort put forth to conceal his actions; it may have been in order to replace his, or to eventually track down and end Nazarus. Likely the latter. "We don't need either of those-- she just needs to be patched up and rest. Dragons are notoriously resilient, after all, even in their disguises." After his explanation, he'd crouch by his acquaintance. "Alright for me to carry you back to Vailkrin? Steadmen can bandage you up." Regardless of her answer, he'd make moves to lift her from the ground.

Rayala finds her voice as Christian pulls the sword from her. She screams, albeit weakly. She feels blood trickle down her arm. "More blood." she croaks, "more bleeding." The dragon would frown at his words. Her concentration waxing and waning, she hears the last part of Christian's last sentence. "Only if he .." she coughs, and her voice would get somewhat stronger, though not by much. "Only if he sings me a song, first." She would attempt to smile, delirious. She thinks about sitting up, tells her body to sit up, but her body decides that sitting up is exactly what it will -not- do. In fact, it would not even try. "Riss." She begins to speak, her expression shifting nervously from one emotion to the next. "Riss, right? Who's..." she gestures vaguely to where the other voice would come from.

Callamyre did not have issues with blood - it just so happened that she had issues with Rayala's blood, and she pushed her lips into a tight frown. When Christian spoke, her eyes sparked, and the frown faded, realization shifting her freckled features. "Oh, a dragon," she murmured, curiosity lighting up her face. "I've never met a dragon." Somewhere, in her mind, she went over what she knew of dragons, and thankfully, she'd once read a tome that mentioned the affects dragon's blood had on vampires; this fact verified her unease, and so long as she remained void of the blood on her skin, she would be fine. Her eyes focused on Rayala's face, noting with no small amount of concern the pain and weakness that wracked the dragon's body. "My name is Callamyre," she said, offering up her name, and pronouncing it "Cah-lah-meer". A beat followed her introduction, before she looked up at Christian, deducing his name must be 'Riss'. "Sorry to meet in such terribly circumstances. How may I be of assistance?" All so prim and proper for a girl of her education, one would think she never knew how to get her hands dirty - but then one would be wrong.

Christian grinned, regardless of the circumstances. "Yep. Just me. As terrifying as that may be." It was, at this point, Amos faded from reality, returning to the confines of a tattoo upon his arm, that arm slipped beneath her head to prop it; his left found way beneath her legs. Effortlessly, he'd hoist her from the ground and head east. "If you want to help, come to the Corpse in Vailkrin. I'd chat on the way, but I doubt you can keep up. No offense." The edges of Christian's forms became obscure, as if dancing a line between solid and...something else. Hell, he'd practically disappear before Callamyre had a chance to respond; this, undoubtedly, would wreak havoc upon his internal organs, but he'd become used to it over the years: the crippling pain which accompanied the effects of his technique upon a human body.

Rayala repeats the name being offered to her, clinging to it as though it is a lifeline in and of itself. "Callamyre," she says, trying to focus on the pronunciation. She slurs her next words, though, tiredly. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Ray." She shakes her head, lightly, but doing so causes her stomach to turn. She swallows to calm it, else she retches. She forms her next words, carefully. "Rvlyva Glr Bpthwyn, daughter of Blvr, daughter of Mkyr." Her voice is weak, again, and dry. "That's my name. My clan." She moans as Christian picks her up, huddles into his chest, cold again. "Come" she whispers to the nice lady, as she is whisked away.