RP:Deja Vampires

 Summary: Uriphiel finds himself in a repeating set of circumstances in which he must step in and defend a woman (Cynarith) from a roving band of vampires.

Date of Writing: March 10th, 2024. 

Deja Vampires

 Quaint Corner, Cenril
This little corner serves as the junction of the merchant and lower areas of the coastal town. Northward lies Merchant Street and then Congressional Way, while west is Arril Street. Well lit and well traveled, this portion of the roadway was shaped from heretofore-unknown means, recently experimented with in Cenril. The rocks that normally form such a paving were melted in some twisted furnace, enchanted by dwarves of the deepest mountain, and then quickly lain, one after another, forming whole again without seams.

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• 
  Cynarith has been staying in Cenril on official business with the Nildran Construction Company as they've started a project of renovations for a group of homes in the area. It has been around a year since she took over her father's business while running her own and it hasn't left much time for anything else. She barely has had time to catch up on local news of the area she's been working in and is clueless to the recent crime rate involving vampires. Not like she actually has anything to worry about when it comes to vampires due to her dragon blood, but it isn't common knowledge that she is a dragon. She is making her way from the construction site along the path of the backstreets behind the markets and she hits the quaint corner… although at night it is more like a 'Murder Angle'. She suddenly realizes she is alone and her turquoise hued gaze narrows to see just how far her bodyguards have gotten. Did she leave them behind at the site? By someone's gods she needs a vacation! After stowing away the blueprints she was just going over, she tucks some of her light pink hair behind tapered ears and continues on her way- or tries to. Some bummy looking pale dude with his orange hair slicked back like he's suave blocks her way while asking, "whatsa delicate little pretty thing like you doing in this area of town at this time of night, huh?" She seems calm, but her heart starts racing as her thumb idly rotates the ring on her index finger - already uncomfortable. "Just heading to a business dinner where some prospective clients are expecting my presence… so if you'll just-" she goes to step through along with her lie, but she is blocked again and now she can smell blood in the air between them as she spots the red tinge on the man's lips. "For real?! You must be quite the important one… It's dangerous out here, precious." Something else moves in the shadows out of the corner of her eye and she realizes they are not alone as the insides of her feel all slimy from the way he just said precious. Then he holds out a knife while his other hand motions for her to hand over her things, "just make this easier on all of us and hand over your bag." Two other vampires make their presence known from the shadows. "Then get down on the ground and count to a hundred," the creep's timbre lowers menacingly and she whimpers ever so softly, but not at the threat of danger. "You don't understand, this is an original Dilya Araceran dress." The high end designer's name is definitely lost on the thug as he raises his voice, "do you want me to cut you, bitch?"
  
  
• 
  [Uriphiel] The man known as Uriphiel looked nothing like his former self this evening. Once again he had consumed an elixir to look like another, something he had done once a day for the last year and a half since he escaped an almost certain death. The culprits at large were finally becoming known to the former Shar of Schezerade, with word on the street that a certain cabal of vampires were working dirty jobs for corrupt aristocrats of vast wealth and power. It was roughly one week prior that the man tracked the first of the cabal members that had orchestrated his demise, but he knew very well that there had been others, and that they did most of their skulking around the areas of Cenril and Kelay. In fact, he was anticipating the appearance of a few of those members this evening; And so he took the high ground, roving from rooftop to rooftop in the more isolated areas of the city on the off chance that these vile creatures would forego their better judgement, and make themselves known by stirring up trouble for an unfortunate passerby. The avian, currently in human form, had been taking a rest atop the barn south of the oft traveled quaint corner when the raised voice of a trouble maker rang out. “...cut you, bitch?” Those were the words that caught Uriphiel’s attention and caused him to perch himself at the edge of the roof, quietly peering down as he surveyed the situation, waiting for an opportunity to make his move.
  
  
• 
  Cynarith hands over her bag even though she is more upset about the blueprints she just slipped into it than the thousands of gold coins it deceptively holds. Must be one of those new fangled bags with a spacial type spell on the inside! "On the ground!" He threatens with his knife once more, raising it close to her face, but she takes a good look on the ground and shakes her head with tears welling at the rim of her bottom eyelid. "Fine- we could use dessert! Order up," he motions for the two vampiric henchmen to hold her still while he slinks close to the aristocrat. Cynarith squirms and tries to break free because she doesn't want to get blood on this dress either as she cringes away the best she can from those fangs coming right at her. Teeth sink into her flesh and adrenaline courses through every muscle while she lets out a yelp of pain. It is a sickening feeling as the life force that one's blood zips through the body in the highways that are veins is being pulled away and nourishing another. By now most give into the euphoric feeling from the bite, but since she is a dragon, that trait gives her immunity to such tricks. Just as she was attempting to kick the man in the shin, or better yet his special place, the man is pulling away yelling in pain and spitting out her blood. Suddenly there is smoke coming from inside his mouth and around his lips because her blood is burning him, but his minions still wont let Cynarith go as they start asking her what she did to their boss as one of them knees her in her side. "Oof!" She doubles over in pain, but the pair hold her right again. Just as the guy who bit her comes back to wrap his leather glove covered hand around her neck. If he is trying to threaten her, she cannot understand him through his burnt larynx and it just sounds like a weird gurgle.
  
  
• 
  Uriphiel watches on as the pink-haired woman is accosted by the three vampiric ruffians, not yet wanting to intervene until he was certain that they were members of the cabal he had been tracking. From beneath the shadow of a ragged hood, a pair of olive green eyes narrowed once the main agitator closed in for a bite. Uriphiel figured that the woman could handle a little blood loss in order for him to be able to stealthily make his move, but he was completely caught off guard when the bloodlusting vampire immediately pulled back and cried out. That was not normal. Lifting his partizan with one hand and using the other to cling to the edge of the roof, the human-guised avian silently dropped down to the road below to surprise the vamps before they could retaliate in a more harmful manner. Suddenly, the vampire on Cynarith’s right side is thrown backward as the spear-like partizan that Uriphiel had been carrying was thrown with tremendous force. While it had pierced the blood-sucker’s sternum, it missed the heart completely, meaning that the intended target was not slain, but felled for a short time. The cretin on her left was not quite as lucky. When the partizan took out one of the henchmen holding Cynarith, Uriphiel was already closing the gap between the trio and himself. He suddenly called out the word ‘NEXUM”, activating the intricately crafted hilt in his left hand. From the crossguard erupted a brilliant blue blade of aetheric energy, with a white streak of light burning through its center. When the disguised avian was finally within reach, he stopped, spun himself around swiftly, and used the momentum of the swing to cleave the vampire’s head from his body. He wasted no time, pointing the weapon at the third remaining vampire still with its greedy mitts locked onto the distressed woman’s throat. “Let go of her. Now.”
  
  
• 
  Cynarith is struggling under the hold from three different assailants now, but suddenly one of the vampires disappears from view and she didn’t see what happened to him since she’s currently being choked and all. The ONE night she accidentally wanders away from her bodyguards and this bull happens. Does she have some sort of target on her back or something!? Her father would rage if he knew they are failing at the job he hired them for and those two guys were not cheap to find or train, but luckily he’s not around Lithrydel right now and doesn’t need to know about this little incident. Her eyes narrow at a bright blade being swung about while the guy strangling her has yet to understand what is happening, but Cynarith is becoming just as confused even though she would have enough sense to realize they are being attacked and to switch her attention. Finally, she is dropped and she takes a few steps back while drawing a deep breath in, but then she gets the sight of the headless vampire near her and keels over to throw up. The vampire gurgles something else, still unable to talk with the dragon blood beginning to poison him, but he gets one look at the sword with eyes wide and attempts to make a run for it- the coward. Unfortunately, he still has her bag with the documents she needs. Cynarith wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and holds the bite mark on her neck with her opposite one while shouting after him, “get back here!” She looks to the man who just saved her life as if expecting someone else and then she watches the assailant continue to retreat.
  
  
• 
  Uriphiel let loose a very exasperated sigh when the last of the thieves decided to make a break for it. He was not expecting to have to put in a bit of a chase. He gave the well-to-do woman a simple glance from behind the veil of shadows cast by the hood resting atop his head, his concealed gaze meeting hers for the briefest of a moment, before he took off into a full sprint to try and catch up with the fleeing vampire. The disguised man would find himself in the good graces of lady luck this evening, thankfully. Due to Cynarith’s toxic blood, the misguided creature that tried to feed off of her was in a dire way. Without warning, the vamp seized up and fell forward onto the hard stone road, gurgling and moaning in agony. This afforded Uriphiel the necessary time to catch up, grab the cretin by the belt in his pants, and hoist him into the air like a cheap piece of luggage. There was a strange way about how a man of that size was able to lift the vampire with such little effort, almost as if he held some sort of supernatural strength - something a dragon in disguise would immediately recognize with suspicion. The mysterious human slowly made his way back, casually carrying the dying miscreant with one hand. Unfortunately for Cynarith, her bag had been given little care, and while still in the clutches of the vampire, was being dragged along the ground in tow. There would certainly be a few unsightly scuff marks all over one side. “Are you alright?” he finally asked the woman, dropping the now deceased vampire at her feet. She would be able to get a better view of the man now that all the commotion had died down. He wasn’t remarkable by any means. His clothing was rather lacking in status. Simple cloth rags of earthen tones, with a large cloak draped across his shoulders. His hip was home to a sword on one side, and an unfamiliar style of custom sheath on the other, soon to become home for the hilt that once more lacked a blade. He wasn’t a tall man in this form. Perhaps even a couple of inches smaller than the socialite herself. His face, which was lightly illuminated by the nearby ambient glow of street lamps, was mostly concealed beneath a heavy beard of chestnut hue. While he waited for her answer, Uriphiel turned his attention back to the vampire that had been impaled by his partizan, who was now struggling to remove it from his chest. The human approached, placed one boot upon the creature’s throat, and pulled the weapon free with a sickening crunch. He then lifted the weapon, and drove it back into the vampire, this time piercing its heart and ending the thing’s suffering entirely. He didn’t need them alive for questioning, this time.
  
  
• 
  Cynarith watches from where they left her and does notice how the human appears to have supernatural strength for his stature, but that isn't exactly out of the realm of possibilities for this land. She has exceptional strength in this form, but doesn't exactly like to advertise anything amiss about the 'perfect yet snobby socialite' that she pretends to be. It's really a mechanism of her own creation to keep everyone at arm's length and it works like a charm. Just when she was about to lift the hem of her dress to access the throwing daggers her eldest sister gave her and taught her how to use, she sees the vampire crumple to the ground. Thank goodness… she cannot be seen being a heroine all of the sudden. As the good samaritan is returning, she takes a quick glance around and is thankful that all of this commotion has not drawn a crowd. Her gaze stays steady on what she can see of the savior's face even though her bag scraping along the ground irks her in the slightest, but this just means she gets to go shopping for a new one. As the vampire lay at her feet, she bends at the knees to gracefully lower down and lift her bag from the vampiric thief while answering, "I will be." Now that the danger has passed, her tone returns to its honeyed self that is also borderline plummy. She begins to search inside her bag to check on the blueprints once more, relieved that months of work hasn't been trashed, but the sickening sound of the partizan piercing through the last vampire causes her to flinch and make an involuntary gasp/whimper. Even though she feels nauseated once more, she muscles on through while hesitatingly taking a step towards her hero, "thank you so much. I..." her gaze attempts to find his own in her genuine gratitude. He might pick up that she is wearing one of her signature perfumes which smells pleasantly of lilacs and mahogany, but not overpoweringly so. "I don't know how that would have happened if you had not stepped in, sir." There is a trickle of her own blood rolling down her perfect ivory skin in the area of her collarbone threatening to slip further down while she is rummaging in her bag once more, "how much gold will your silence of this encounter cost me?" It wouldn't be hard for him to already puzzle together one of her best kept secrets that she is actually a dragon, so she is trying to buy his discretion on the matter.
  
  
• 
  Uriphiel lets out a short puft of air from his nostrils, an ever-so-slight bemused smirk tugging at the corner of his barely noticeable lips. He could not help but to find humour in her question. It was a strange parallel to the events of one week prior, almost as if he were experiencing deja vu; Only this time he was the one to have an attempted bribe thrust upon him. If he were a lesser man, he would surely take the gold - but that is not in the perceived humanoid’s nature. “No gold is necessary. Had you not been here on this street, at this very moment, then I may not have tracked down these three in which I had been seeking for so long. That is payment enough.” The man lowers himself then, beginning to rummage through the pockets of the would-be thieves in turn, checking each for anything that might hold valuable information. “I would like to think that there is more to you than meets the eye, miss. While you first appeared helpless in my initial observation, I could not help take notice of what happened when this one fed from you.” Uriphiel was currently pulling a few neatly folded papers from the poisoned vampire’s inside jacket pocket. “Now, I do not mean to be presumptuous, nor do I intend to meddle in your affairs, but I know only of a few species which host toxic blood to the vampiric race- and humans are certainly not one of them. Which, is most likely the reason you attempt to buy my silence in the first place, yes?” Most of the papers the man had retrieved were quickly discarded as nothing of interest could be seen. However, there was one letter that stood out, and while it did not exactly concern the man directly, it held the most incriminating clue of all. A symbol. Not just any symbol, but one that he remembered from long ago. Something that his closest companion had warned him of shortly before his disappearance. Uriphiel could feel anger welling in his chest. It was only when the smell of the woman’s perfume hit him that he snapped out of his vengeful desire and finished his thoughtful deduction. “That is to say, I merely suspect that you most likely would have had the upper hand in this fight, even had I not been here to intervene. Whatever secret you choose to hide is not my concern, and I can assure you that I will not speak of it to anyone.”
  
  
• 
  Cynarith isn't relieved when he doesn't take the gold, because that usually means this person now has a position to blackmail her or even coerce her into sneaking him into a certain city under a distraction of sorts. She knows that not being able to pay this man off now might mean she is going to pay for it later. Just take the gold, guy, she's got too much- really. She follows his steps while he's doing his searching and gives him a sharp, "shh," when he starts announcing his Sherlock level of deduction out loud. "This isn't exactly being silent, sir," the once honeyed voice is a harsh whisper now as her gaze darts around for any late light wanderers. After feeling the trickle of blood slipping closer and closer to the bust of her dress, she pulls free a kerchief to clean up the blood that leaves behind a bright red smear on her skin before pressing it into the bite wound on her neck. "Well, maybe, but that is neither here nor there. As long as you won't go around saying that you even saw me wandering the backstreets of Cenril by myself, I think-" but she is cut off by the sound of two men shouting after them from the direction she came from. At this she rolls her eyes and turns around - at the ready to reprimand these fools, only to be shoved behind the two massive dudes dressed smartly in all black, creating a wall between her and the savior, "we will defend you Lady Cynarith!" Then she taps one of them on the shoulder and that plummy tone returns, "please… You two gollumpuses are too late. At ease," she parts through them and huffs before extending her hand to the stranger only to see it is stained in her blood before retreating the appendage. "I thank you again for your bravery, sir?" Awaiting him to offer his own name if he wishes before giving him a curtsey in lieu of a handshake. Then she gently gives one of the guards an elbow nudge and he hands a crisp white business card to the stranger, "please- if there is anything I can do for you, allow me to make this night up to you." The card will simply say Cynarith at the top in bold black script and then list off her businesses: CyCy Chunelle, Hazelbend Chateu, Lead to Gold, Indigo, Nildran Construction Co.
  
  
• 
  Uriphiel felt like a complete oaf when the woman scolded him, taking the hint to lower his voice quite swiftly. “Ah, yes. My apologies.” The discovered evidence was neatly folded and stuffed into his pocket as he erected himself to meet her eye level, olive gaze soon falling to the trickle of blood that was still leaking from the bite wound on her neck. While her words were acknowledged with a nod, Uriphiel could not help but to raise his guard when two ebon-clad goons came rushing at the pair with haste. This of course led the bearded man to react, reaching down for the hilt of his arming sword just as they pushed past Cynarith to block his path. Uriphiel didn’t take long to come to the conclusion that these men were duty bound to the woman he’d been speaking with, and he once again lowered his guard so as to not arouse the need for an altercation. ‘Some guards’, the disguised avian thought. Where were they when their charge was being mugged? Regardless, it was obvious that they had no real hold over the woman to begin with. Uriphiel took the card and examined it closely, many of the business names quite foreign to his knowledge - although the name Nildran did seem in some way familiar. “Please, call me…” the man paused. There was no certain way that he could use his real name. Not if he valued his own safety. Only one person had heard it in recent months, and that was only because of an unfortunate mishap with the timing of his elixirs. He had to think quickly. “D..avian. Davian smith.” The man bows gracefully, tucking the card then into the same pocket he had slipped the important paper into. “I… appreciate that. Thank you. I will be in con-” Again, he pauses, although for a more unfavourable reason. The human abruptly turns pale as a profuse sweat forms on his brow. There was a soft gurgle emanating from his stomach. It was time. “Please, excuse me.” “Davian” pivots on the ball of his foot and dashes off to the east, ducking into a nearby alleyway. Should Cynarith or her bodyguard be watching the man’s odd exit, they may see a few golden feathers blow out of that same alley, carried off by a passing breeze. How peculiar.