Fight:The Abdicated King and a Cabalist

Location: Dragon Graveyard, Vailkrin

Characters: Kasyr and Vasili

Synopsis: Kasyr meanders into the territory claimed by a cabalist and prepares for a meeting with a peculiar technique. When Vasili arrives the two have words and fling a few accusations. In the end, the two fight for their own reasons. Ultimately, Vasili doesn't dissapoint the kensai and learns to respect his skill. The two part ways and may meet again in the future.

Pre Fight RP at the Dragon Graveyard

This place is massive, and displayed over the haunting grounds you see nothing but mountains of draconic bones. Some old and some new, you even see a half rotted dragon, who had recently come here to die. You have heard of dragon graveyards before, but they are rare indeed, and just to see one puts you in awe. Despite how interesting this place may be, you feel chills run down your spine, hearing a dragon's ill roar in the distance some where in the graveyard. Feeling you may upset one of the dying dragons you may encounter here, you should probably move on. For those who are already dying have no fear of death, and would not mind taking another life with them to the grave.

Kasyr , despite being perched atop a dragons skull looking like a feline ready to punce, seems incredibly bored. But then, the Kensai had decided to engage in a stakeout; something which by definition, was one of the most monotonous activities that could be undertaken, especially when the subject of said waiting game was undead, and thus subject to less distractions than their more mortal counterparts. Perhaps that's why Kasyr has at this point begun to memorize the number of intact ribs and teeth on dragon corpses littering the areas. There's also a number of mundane looking Katana's to count scattered across the area, but the Kensai has a rather intuitive understanding that there's well over 100 of those particular objects lodged into whatever was convenient, "169 ? That feels right." He scratches at the stubble that was starting to come in along his jaw, an errant thought starting to crop up- before a plaintive mewl comes from his backpack. "Casper." Two white ears crop up from inside, followed by a cat which somehow manages to channel a knowing look, "Can you not. We're being - discreet?" This is empirically false. Beyond the swords, and the blatant positioning, he'd also shouted his location earlier. "We're resetting the record and -trying- to be discreet now." The mewl he gets in response to this sounds almost dismissive, as the cat burrows back into his bag, and begins to eject cookies from it with a surprising degree of vigor. "I want those! Stop. You'll get a treat later."

Despite Kasyr's comical position, counting and attempts at being discreet, Vasili does nothing to approach him upon entering the dragon graveyard. Instead, his entrance is more serious, covered in his usual arms and armor - a thin bone randomly placed within his path is crushed beneath a weighted boot. This alone might announce his arrival. Light gray-blue eyes flick to the man atop the skull, he did stand out, curious as to why he would enter this place. Hadn't this man walked away from Vampire kind? That is Kasyr who squats atop that carcass, isn't it? Regardless Vasili absentmindedly responds. "168, I claimed one earlier for myself." His total accounts for the same bits of dragon Kasyr had been busying himself with prior to his arrival. Beyond the fresh carcasses and the old bones that litter the area, not much has changed. Save for a desk, which holds a lamp and a plethora of maps which Kasyr most likely rifled through trying to figure out what was happening here. What he would have found is nothing more than notes and pictures of the city of Vailkrin, after Larewens vanishing. "Something I can help you with?" Yes, his previous claim of territory even extends to the former king, though at least that man has Vasili's respect. Unlike this Dragana character.

Kasyr , as an empath, does tend to get a bit of warning when people get within a certain threshold of him- save in those rarest of instances, where the emotions tend to get obscured, or the uncanny void that marked Vuryal as a hollow puppet simply going through the motions of emoting. Whether the immediate lack of reaction to the crunch of bone is due to this, or simply because his cat is consuming his attention by being a brat is something difficult to parse, but it should be noted that the Kensai manages to do an adequate job of maintaining his cool as a petrifying potion is sent tilting towards the edge of his bony perch, "With you in a sec- Oh." It's caught, and stashed, with the cat being shoved back into the oddly spacious confines of the bag as well with nothing more than a plaintive 'Mao', as Kasyr owlishly peers in Vasili's direction. Really, the swordsman is trying to see if he recognizes the man from anywhere, and whether this is going to be yet another instance of forgetting someone over the years, or a genuine new introduction. "Oh! Is it on you, or did you stash it somewhere?" The question seems less possessive and more inquisitive, a genuine streak of curiosity creeping into his voice, though the latter question does serve well to direct Kasyr back to business. "J'en sais pas. I rightly don't know your capabilities, other than having a penchant for running your mouth. Good for a town crier, but I can't rightly gauge anything else." There's a sort of whimsy in the man's voice, a sort of oddly upbeat tone that doesn't seem to entirely mesh well with their altogether macabre settings. And surprisingly, it's not due to the Kensais habitual inebriation, if only because his upcoming match has forced his hands in regards to sobriety.

Vasili lofts a brow to Kasyr and his pointed words, whether they are taken as a threat or not, is left unstated. A single hand idly flicks up to adjust a few errant strands of charcoal colored hair. Once he has finished fussing a smirk crosses his features. True, Vasili has earned no noteworthy objectives. Though he is sure that those facts will change now that he means to apply himself. But the same words could be said of Kasyr. "And I know a king who walked away from his throne." A hand imitates a leaf wafting through the breeze, sarcastically. "You had it all Kasyr, yet here you are, greeting a lowly cabalist who will carve himself a future upon his own merits." Vasili would be unrecognizable to Kasyr. There is no single event to tie him too. "Did you grow bored?" He takes a step forward, and tilts his head. The comment about where it is, is ignored entirely. Why would he give that away? "As for running my mouth, it's best that someone speaks up against Dragana and acts or they will run us all into ruin." Vasili remarks upon both the vampire bounty and the drow bounty, not to mention Larewens war which she vanished from. In all, Dragana has done some very cruel things.

Kasyr s' expression doesn't particularly shift in the face of the cabalists words, other than a certain degree of intensity entering his gaze. He's studying the man as a whole, the posture he holds as he walks, the surety of his step and whether it's casual, or contains any guarded elements. That said, it's not beyond the Kensais ability to reply, even as his scrutiny continues, "Boredom? If my interest had been entertainment, I'd have run this city into the ground like my predecessors. Exhaustion might be closer, peut-etre. Of minding bickering children, et curtailing their apocalyptic attempts at fulfilling their nearsighted ambitions." And didn't that so aptly describe what house Dragana had wrought, or the whispers of what she desired. To set the city ablaze so that it might once more present itself as something fierce and destructive to it's neighbours. "Even if it might consume it. Mm. I won't argue that beneath Larewen, that house was a madhouse. Hoping that she might ever serve as a possible unifying force was . . ." An error born of exhaustion? An impractical gambit? "A miscalculation. Et one I intervened on, more than once." Not that it had done much to placate House Ashram, once upon a time so close- and now uncannily silent towards the Kensai. Whilst Kasyr's done a great job of maintaining an amicable tone for most of this conversation, he can't quite help the pointed tone that enters his speech, "One I have been quietly rectifying. That said, it doesn't help if you're going to be complicating things.Et if you're seeking to engage in usurpation or Tyranny, you're already making good progress in taking on Larewen's role as our resident issue." A small burst of firelilies emanates from the bag as though to properly punctuate that comment, though it elicits a less than enthused, and fairly quiet, "Don't worry, you're not being replaced, Casper." You're a different sort of problem, and one that had apparently been too well behaved lately. Way to make up for lost time.

Vasili is notably calm, eerily so. His posture is quite serene, with a hand casually waving through the air despite his words. Yes, Kasyr may stand before him, but Vasili holds his own. The vampire stays silent through much of Kasyr's speech, only nodding where he agrees and shaking his head where he doesn't. For as much as this conversation is unexpected, it's at least pleasant. Vasili's own eyes begin to weigh Kasyr, his own posture and what his motive is for coming to a territory that has been claimed by another. "Tyranny belongs to the house that has abandoned Vailkrin to the wolves. Tyranny is the houses lording over the people through cloak and dagger. Through the merits of others. I have as much right as any house to claim. More so because I will do it with my own hands." At that both hands flick through the air and end at waist level as fists. "The house of Dragana will be torn apart by me, not just for its crimes, but because it deserves to be. The other weak houses will be smashed and eradicated as well. The time for the aristocracy of the night is at an end. Weakness has led Vampire and undead for too long." Vasili turns on foot, putting the only bit of heavy armor he wears forward - a runed adamantine-band sleeve that runs down his left arm. "You may be the former king, but this place is off limits. The time for words is at an end Kasyr. Leave." Archaic words spill into the air like honey from his lips. The spelled words call forth a miasma of mana to swirl about his frame with a sinister presence. His right hand stretches outwards whilst forefinger and thumb snap. Everything falls silent, for precious moments. And then it happens. 'Crack' the loud sound shifts through the air, sending dirt and debris away from Vasili. But within his right hand, a sinister, jagged bastard sword has appeared.

Kasyr 's scrutiny has not just been skin deep, as whilst the pair have engaged in their dialogue, the empathic swordsman has been doing his best to get a feel for the cabalists convictions. With every exchange of words, he's been treating to get the measure of the man, and where he had expected to find something insidiously deceptive, or the self importantant hallmarks of mere ambition- there's belief. An ardent passion that carries within his words and spirits, that underscores the truthfulness of his words, "Well -I- have more to say, but I don't think you'd be all that receptive right now." He slowly rises to a stand as he speaks, gingerly nudging his napsack towards the hollow of the dead dragon's left eye as he does so. But where Vasili has adopted a stance well and befitting someone looking to be intimidating, the Kensai simply outstretches his arms, seemingly at ease with the way his trenchcoat seems to coax his body into swaying upon his perch. It's a queer spectacle in itself, and one that might prove distracting - at first. It's hard to believe, however, that the gradually amplifying grind of steel against bone will be possible to miss, however- as the Kensai reaches out to the swords he'd planted in the graveyard earlier, tapping into the connection he carries with the 'steel' they're made from. Where Vasili lofts his sinister blade up in a challenge to Tyranny, Kasyr now plays conductor to an orchestra of steel, which eerily hangs in the air all about them. "Let's change that."

The Fight

Vasili sneers at Kasyr's countermeasures and the promise of a good fight with the former king. Beneath his ashen features, stands the arrogance of a man assured by his own skill. Defiance against the houses and the tyranny they provide as poison against Vailkrin. The spell blades convictions are absolute even in the face of such a display. Though Vasili takes this precious moment to revel in a glory yet to be claimed. "Interesting," the vampires words are soft in response. His booted foot twists upon the bone laden ground - muscles flex as left hand extends forward with honeyed words. Another archaic call as he sprints into action, leaping from one cadaver to another with vampiric celerity. Just when the sired Vampire would be within striking range, his spell activates and throws a globe of darkness around the duo to obscure and hide Vasili the Vampire. His former master, was a drow, and blind fighting has become an ingrained talent that he possesses and abuses. Such a skill might be noticed as he swings that jagged bastard sword in a wide horizontal arc for Kasyr's soft stomach within the dark confines of this spell. This sequence acts as a one two combination. Not only does he vanish from sight, he hides his attack with oppressive skill.

Kasyr 's display is not just for show, for even as the vampiric revolutionary begins to take his strides, the curtain of arnaments begins to move in tandem, to form a gradually tightening orbit around the pair. And yet, the Kensai himself fails to move- at least until the fateful moment where the world goes dark, and obscures the first real hint of Vasili's swordsmanship. Whilst robbed of the ability to trust his sight, the Kensai still has his uncanny mastery of the blade . . . and that keen empathy he'd been putting to use, and which still painted a picture of the man. Whilst it was not as graceful an image as what might have been offered by his eyes, his passions burn bright enough that he can make out an outline, and by doing so predict the arc of the vampires swordsmanship. With nary a scond to spare, he twists his body to the side- interposing the leather of his trenchcoat into it's path, as well as the less yielding combination of mithril mesh and preklek plating beneath. That said, while it spares him evisceration is does little to reduce the momentum behind the strike, and only adds to the precariousness of his perch, sending him spilling backwards from the skull he'd been using as a support - and leaving him free to abruptly barrage the majority of it's surface with the blades which had earlier closed in upon that position. And just as it had helped to reveal Vasili's position prior, the measure of his belief serves to paint a moving target upon his back, all the better so that Kasyr can perforate the revolutionary, or at the very least, coax him into increasing the distance between the two of them, as the Kensai staggers back up to a stand.

Vasili is a man trained to be light on foot, coupled with his vampirism, this is double downed. The spell blade gives no thought to Kasyr's defense - refusing to let even doubt enter his mind. While the cloak upon his blade is troublesome, he does note that brutish strength rings true in the end. His senses picking up the bashing of weapon upon his opponent. Though he has no time to celebrate for the first sword to rain down on him from the skies is indeed the one he had pilfered that rested within his desk. If Vasili could see it, he would certainly smile at its sudden appearance upon the skull. However, he becomes keenly aware of each that enters the globe around him - practically dancing to and fro as his training takes hold of his body in the dark. And for moments it seems like he would succeed. That however is proven false as the last blade slams into his adamantine-band sleeve and digs into his shoulder. With a fierce cry of pain, Vasili ejects the blade from him with a swipe of his own. Arrogance soon sweeps through his body, pushing him onwards and forwards. This time, Vasili utters a runic incantation and Mercurius, his bastard sword responds by breaking apart into hundreds of sharpened shards. With another word, these blades scatter and fan out. His outstretched right hand closes into a fist, the globe of darkness ending, but the blades now magically launch at the former king to possibly turn him into swiss cheese.

Kasyr finishes standing up, a pained hiss escaping from between his lips at the tenderness already beginning to settle into his ribs. What's more, he can't even take stock of the aftermath of his own actions . . . at least in the case of his vampiric adversary. Keeping track of his swords is another matter entirely as even during their downward descent, those that ran askew of their target would redirect themselves to avoid finding a home in their owner. Something which provides the Kensai with no shortage of weapons on hand when the darkness is abruptly ended, and replaced instead by the threat of a shower of shards. As they fire inwards towards his location, Kasyr need only move his fingers slightly to the side to brush against the hilt of one of the swords needed to channel his powers- heedless of the manner in which it rests embedded in the ground. That disregard is only further extended towards his own state, as a shower of sparks spews out from Kasyrs chest, most prominently at the fist sized chunk of flesh and muscle at his left side which is outright ionized- though it's rapidly followed by the entirety of the Kensais body losing consistency and converting into electrical energy. Even before those shards can finish tearing through the spot the Kensai had formerly occupied, the sword saint is putting the energies he's channeled into use, to send himself hurtling towards Vasili's direction within the space of a breath. It's as the first bit of Mercurious begins to tear up the cursed turf that the Kensai solidifies back into flesh and blood near the vampires back, the mundane Katana he'd taken hold of already in the process of swiping upwards in what would seem like an attempt at bisecting the man. And yet, the arc never reaches completion as the vestiges of the energy still contained within the swordsman are used to provide himself one last burst of speed meant to take him out from the rear, and to instead redirect himself more towards what had been the mans front, albeit adjusted in response to the direction that the vampire may have made with the Kensai's literally lightning quick response. Kasyr's goal in this moment is altogether simple, with his blade arcing out instead to swipe across Vasili's throat, albeit with enough shallowness to avoid ending his erstwhile opponent.

Vasili gives another sneer to his opponent - reveling in the ordeal of all that is happening. Still he is on the move, despite fatigue starting to eat at his muscles or the perilous skull they both find themselves upon. He mentally makes a remark upon the kensais body and ultimately responds as he should. Vasili is master of Mercurius, the jagged bastard sword which Kasyr now seems to face. With a single command, it manifests once more within Vasili's grasp - all shards accounted for; the blood pact he formed ensures its loyalty and Kasyr might note something strange about the weapon. Is it intelligent? Despite the speed, Mercurius is there to block the first strike in a flash, breaking Kasyrs speed with a shower of sparks as the first strike collides and is blocked by that jagged weapon. The vampire perfectly reacts to Kasyr and his lightning imbued speed on pure instinct alone, irrespective of his flashy lightning based movements. His show of force doesn't end as he responds in kind, with a burst of speed all his own by swiping the blade in a downwards chop aimed for Kasyrs skull, this however is merely a feint. Instead, Vasili launches himself at Kas with a vicious headbutt in an simple minded attempt to shatter his nose.

Kasyr has both a familiarity, and a profound odium for sentient weapons, and has gone toe to toe with a fair few at this point, which would certainly contribute to a sneaking suspicion, even if he didn't have the uncanny ability to read into swords, as well as the swordsmanship used to wield them. It's enough, at least, to briefly contort the swordsmans expression when it makes it's prodigious appearance and intercepts his strike. The recoil is jarring, sending a quake through a frame that lives and breaths anew, and setting alight nerves around the still sparking hole in his side where flesh and sinew hang ragged- but it's not enough to prevent him from lifting up his sword to attempt and clash with Vasili's strike. It's only when his swing reaches the apex of his arc that he realizes his error, Vasili's face looming towards his in a triumphant arc that would threaten to knock all sense from him. Or at least, it may have, were it not for the hissed out prayer that escapes his lips, a hum that reverbrates through Kasyrs body and sends divine strength coursing through his flesh. The sword saint lives up to his title, after all, given that he's the chosen champion of an Ascendi appointed by her hand- and so able to wield holy energy to a degree that is both fluid and potent. Enough so that he's able to weather the impact of skulls with his senses still intact, even as it sends him stumbling back, his face smeared with blood. Though the quest then lies as to how well Vasili might have fared with his brief contact with the divine, or how he reacts to the immediate reprisal that ensues as Kasyr brings his already lofted sword and slams it down towards Mercurious. Worse, still, is the way that electricity once more begins to course through the Kensais body, causing the already gory hole in his side to begin once more growing, to mix electrical energies into the blow so that he might forcibly drag the weapon into the arc of that energy, imbuing both it and it's wielder with an outpouring of divine wrath. "Give. Me. Strength."

Vasili might be immortal, unable to die due to age, but he cannot escape the oppressive nature of the divine that abruptly rips through his minds eye in the aftermath of that headbutt. He reels back shaking his head to and fro to pull his mind from such intensity. His awkward staggering and momentary lapse breaks his concentration, as much as Kasyr had hoped for. That sudden and jarring strike lands upon the intelligent weapon, but instead of shattering, it escapes and vanishes - hiding from the Vampires menacing strike upon it. Any hope to gather strength from it fails. By now, Vasili has recovered, eyes narrowing upon the former king. "Fine. I'll allow you to come and go. Your strength, it seems, isn't made up." As for the others, well that was a different story. Regardless, Vasili has grown tired and reflexively reaches to the wound upon his shoulder, wincing once. "Damn good strike," Vasili mutters out loud, impressed with Kasyr and his show of force. It seems that now, the fight was out of his system.

The Aftermath

Kasyr manages to adjust to Mercurious wise decision to disengage, from both the conflict and the material realm at large, by a quick flourish of his blade, arcing it into the skull they're standing upon to maintain his footing. And it works, mostly- though it does rather awkwardly carve it straight in half and leave them both with one foot on either half as it shifts in it's earthen moors. Really, it's probably a good idea that the Kensai's still running on vestiges of that elemental lightning, as the alteration to his perception and overall ability to process information gives him, essentially, ample time to both consider, and ultimately forego saying 'i meant to do that'. Instead, he goes with a more stoic pose, both his hands falling over the hilt of his blade, both in an effort to look dignified, and to keep both it, and their macabre platform in place. "I'm fairly certain the aristocracys chronic backstabbing, Lithrydels godling problem, et the apocalyptic quoi-ce-soit would have gotten me if it was -all- just rumours." There's a pause, before the Kensaifinds himself tilting his head, "Thank you, though. I hadn't encountered a weapon like yours in...years. At least to that degree of fluid control, en fait." Letting out a long breath, the Kensai carefully adds, "Whilst a part of me does want to ask you about where et how you developed that brand of swordsmanship, " Especially given that he'd rather adeptly managed a maneuver most commonly seen by the drow, " et to hear out your grievances with the houses et how, exactement you intend on addressing them- Well. It's fair to say I've worked up a thirst. " There's a cheeky grin here, which only seems to broaden when the Kensai adds, "But you didn't dissapoint, so I will be back."

Vasili as a Cabalist can appreciate the former kings strength, as he himself strives to live by it. However, the vampire literally makes an odd move which distracts him, sending the blade into the skull beneath their feet. Vasili smirks, despite the pain he feels at the odd moment. But Kasyr remarks upon a technique he used, which belongs to the drow. Vasili thinks for a moment, and remembers the globe of darkness - he must be referring to the blind fighting. "We all have our tricks, former king." That includes the weapon he wields, Mercurius. If one man spilled the beans on everything he had, nothing would be sacred. "But I think a drink is well called for." His own lips are parched and smacked suddenly in realization. However, he has nothing to offer here and this isn't the best of places to do so. "I'm afraid there is no drink to be had here. But there is a tavern not too far." Vasili takes a step away and then plummets to the ground beneath them - his target is the tavern, with or without Kasyr.

When Vasilli steps away, the Kensai simply shuffles to one side, allowing the combined weight of himself and his armored trenchcoat to begin tilting the portion of the skull he's on to the ground. In the midst of this gradual descent, he falls into a partial crouch, dragging the backpack that had been first cradled in there, and then wreathed in a bladed cocoon, free from it's nook. And he's about as thrilled to earn a disgrunted smack of a paw in his face, as Casper had been to find herself in the midst of a battlefield, "Yes, well, hi to you, too." That exchange aside, the diminuitive white cat bounds out from the bag, to land heavily onto the Kensais shoulder and just sit there- sprawled over it awkward, and mostly latched it place by virtue of claws. "Right." Somewhere in the midst of this exchange, the Skull finally sinks against the ground with a series of crunches, at about which point Kasyr steps off with care. For a man nursing a wound in his side, he's managing to move well- and whilst a portion of it may be the same sort of stubbornness that has carried him through a number of disasters- a larger portion is the divine energies he's still clinging onto, using them to both numb the pain and reinforce his body, to avoid worsening his wounds. "Anyways, Considering the nature of what I was going to inquire about- I think a less public avenue would be preferable, en fait. Because I'm not entirely without sympathy towards your agenda, even if don't wholly support it. Et to that ends, the less warning I give those that would be effected by anything we have to discuss? The better." The smile on Kasyrs face still carries that amicable trait, but there's something a bit colder underneath, that seems right at home with the dark cities former king. "So, I think I'll convene with you at a later date, et with vintages that you might be hard pressed to find at the corpse. Until then, try not to die, s'il te plait. Or to run -too- amok.

Vasili gives a nod, understanding Kasyr and his words well enough. "Until next we meet." Vasili continues his journey however, to procure drink, leaving Kasyr to do as he pleases.