by Kindred Ult
Varus noticed just soon enough what was happening, and he kicked his leg out at the exact moment the crescent passed under it. With only one foot on the ground, however, he could do nothing to dodge or block when Dimitrious flipped his staff between his hands, lunged towards him with the flat end of the L side, and punched it into his gut. Varus threw his buckler up almost instinctively, and caught the inevitable strike with the flat blades along the staff, but once again had the shield torn down by the crescent. He tried to swing out and catch the other vampire with his sword, but Dimitrious spun around and swung his staff low while spinning. The end of the L side stuck into the back of Varus's leg, and he fell when Dimitrious ripped it out.
On the ground now, Varus was barely able to roll to the side when Dimitrious chopped the L side of his weapon down like an axe, and he heard the thud as it stuck into the ground. He kept rolling, trying to gain distance between the two of them, but then Dimitrious laughed, twisted the staff so that the L side broke the dirt it was imbedded in, and slammed his staff into the ground. Varus was forced to stop his role, as if he had continued he would have ended it within the crescent's clutches. He was alive, but now he was on the ground with a bladed staff only a foot above him. For just a moment, he looked up into Dimitrious' face, and suddenly, though he had no idea how to stop it, he knew what the old bastard would do.
Dimitrious knew exactly what Varus would do. He had always known what his opponents would do, which was why he always won. His special weapon was more for show than anything else, as he could win with any weapon, but it did serve its purposes. His main weapon, however, had always been his ability to analyze his opponents, and allies; to know what their style was, know what they would do, and how to counter them. He always knew what they would do. Always.
This Varus was different, however, well, at least at first. He had been disturbingly hard to read, and Dimitrious had not even seen that first move coming, which perturbed him greatly. That was behind him now, as was his discomfort. He could easily read the vampire's movements, deduce his style, and predict what he would do. For instance, when Dimitrious slammed his staff into the ground, to relieve the other's head from his shoulders, Varus would throw himself to the side, shifting his head to the side, and for a moment avoid decapitation. Dimitrious would then rip his staff from the ground, straddle Varus, and open his throat with the outside of the crescent blade, then pierce his heart with the L side. This battle was already over.
Dimitrious laughed and shoved the staff down, digging the blades into the earth, but Varus did not throw himself to the side, but quickly shoved his shield in front of him. 'He's more foolish than I thought. He cannot hope to stop an attack with this much power. He'll be stunned, and then I'll open his stomach.'
When the blades of the staff met the buckler, however, all of Dimitrious', and gravity's, power was stopped cold. All of the world stopped for Dimitrious, and all he could think was 'How?!' When he looked down, he saw that, even though the rest of his body was normal, Varus's arm holding the shield was black and throbbing with power.
'A partial transformation, for a vampire? Impossible!' Even Lucifer, with all of his strength, had never shown or spoken about any such power. No vampire in their entire history had. And now this one does. Dimitrious could not have predicted this, because for all of his knowledge, he knew not of it.
Varus himself had little knowledge of what he was doing, but he knew how it felt, and that he could rely on it. He pushed Dimitrious away, tearing the staff from the dirt, and then placed his buckler's flat part on the ground. Using his Other form arm, he supported the weight of his entire body and swung around, partially transforming one of his legs while tucking in the other. His kick had such power that both of Dimitrious' legs were instantly broken at the knees, and he began to fall to the ground like a rag doll.
With more speed than he knew he possessed, Varus finished the spin by landing on normal feet and sending his sword in an upward slash with a partially transformed arm. Dimitrious looked at the blade and laughed. His body, still in midair, began to flow and twist, as if made of smoke, and the smile on his face spoke all.
'Scared me with that. Not natural. Still, with the powers granted me by Lucifer, I can at least stall for time until I can fully analyze him and reenter the fight or find an opening.'
His smile was changed to a scream of pain when Varus's sword cut through him, and once it touched him he could feel himself rematerialize. He looked down to see a large, gaping cut in his torso, and that the ground was rushing away from him. He hit the side of the tent and slid to the ground, a broken, bloody mess. He looked at Varus, who looked like any other vampire at the moment, and one word escaped his lips.
"How?"
Now it was Varus's turn to smile as he walked forward. "Holy water was used to temper this blade. Your sorcery is nothing."
Superior Being
25
Superior BeingAs Dimitrious' scream rent through the air, Demenn turned swiftly, seeing one of the vampire beasts rushing at him. He leapt into the air over it, using its head as a perch for his left hand to vault him over, and landed behind it as it continued forward. Almost as if they had been waiting for him, two more were right in front of him, and they launched into him enough ferocity and strength to cause him to quickly begin to backpedal. They jabbed and slashed their blades back and forth with blinding speed and surprising force, and even while moving backwards, Demenn found that he had to give them his full intention and work as hard as he could just to block and dodge all of their deadly attacks.
Something bothered him, though, and he realized what it was when he bumped into the back of the vampire he had jumped over moments before. He felt its back turn against his and its shoulder blades raise as it brought its arms up. Without needing to look, he spun to his left, ducked down, under the sweeping blades meant for his head, grabbed his sword in both hands for a moment, and then passed it through the beast's torso. He cut through close to the pelvis, since he was still coming up from ducking, but when the flesh was eaten away, it went down all the way to the crotch, so that both of its feet, no longer attached to their body, fell to the sides as its large intestine dropped out of it. The body soon followed, and it lived for just a moment longer before it bled out.
At a step behind him, he instinctively rolled forward, into the small puddle of blood, and shoved his sword back behind him for a moment before coming back up. When his feet hit the ground again, her turned back to see that he had grazed the creature that had attacked him from behind in the inside of its leg. The wound was already spreading, and as it faltered he lunged at it and buried his weapon in its chest. That was five dead now, and seven more still alive.
He was tiring now, though. He had been fighting and surviving the attacks of twelve almost-first class vampires for too long, and it also almost felt like the Sword of Office was draining energy from him as well, though this he could not tell for sure. Regardless, he was tiring, and the remaining seven had him surrounded. To make matters worse, he could no longer use the light, because they had learned after the first try to close their eyes if he tried to.
Even as he was in this predicament, however, he also noticed something exceedingly strange. With every one of them he killed, the Sword of Office burned his hands a little less. Granted, it was only marginally lessened, and he could not be sure if it was not simply his senses dulling, but usually the pain only increased. It also seemed to scream his sins with just a little less intensity, or he was just not paying as much attention to it. He would have gladly thought about this more, but just then all seven of them lunged in at him as one. Their many blades all pointed at him.
A vision of what seemed like long ago flashed through his mind, and he ducked down, almost to the floor, until even the lowest of their blades went over him, and slashed out in a circle around him as he had back when Jaxon and his gang had attacked him. These were vampires of a high class, however, not humans, and so they all leapt back without any inj
uries. One, however, ended its jump just a bit sooner and closer than the others, and Demenn did not miss it. In a flash of movement, he ran towards it, his sword leading.
Again, however, this was a vampire, and it recovered swiftly and sent both of its arms out in two opposite swinging chops towards its center. Demenn, reacting just a moment too soon for the beast, jumped up, tucking in his legs just inches above the two blades slicing under them, and spinning in the air. He ended the spin with a vicious ax-kick down on the vampire's shoulder. It buckled down a bit from the enormous power of the kick, but remained on its feet long enough for Demenn's to hit the floor and he slammed the blade of the sword down into its skull.
The edge of the sword went several inches into its skull before Demenn pulled it back out and spun around, and when it left, the vampire's head looked like it had a wedge hammered into it. He had spent only moments killing the vampire, but already when he turned the other six were upon him, and this time they attacked as individuals. One lunged in from the side with two quick stabs and, when Demenn blocked them, dodged past him before he could retaliate. It was good he had not attempted, as just after it, two charged from both sides and began a series of spinning slashes and stabs that even Demenn could not have survived had he not rolled froward and out of their immediate range. He stopped himself with his hands halfway through the roll and went to the side as twin blades buried into the ground where he would have been, and was on his feet long enough to work his blade with both hands to fend off one beast's incessant attacks.
He could deal with one, though they were all fairly fast, and was just beginning to think about countering when he realized with a start that two were not accounted for in his mental map. He instinctively and desperately lunged to the side even as one of the blades of the two raked across his side. Another was waiting for him when he lunged, and he was forced to swing at it with all of his strength and two hands to stop it from impaling him. It stuck out both of its blades in front of it to block, but even still his strength, momentum, and the power of his sword sent it back, off of its feet, and onto the ground.
He would have loved to follow through and finish it off, but the two who had first attack him ran at him from the front, and he could feel the two that had crept behind him doing the same thing, while the one he had traded blows with stood off to the side to see if he would evade.
'Only one thing to do.' He thought, and he crouched onto the ground and jumped into the air. Not as high as he had in the past, but just enough to go over the vampires around him while still staying under the top of the tent. Just when he thought that he was safe, however, the one that had stayed back intersected him in midair and smashed him back. He batted it to the side as fast as he could as they fell, and even though it blocked it was thrown away as well. He landed on his back, however, and just then felt the pain in his leg and side from where it had stabbed him with its blades when they had collided.
He scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, but when he did he realized that he had become disoriented, and was facing the opposite direction from where the snarls of victory were becoming every closer. It was at this moment that he realized he barely had the strength to turn around, and that even if he did he would be killed very swiftly.
It seemed slightly ironic to him, at that moment. He had worked for all of these years until he was finally a first class, and then had been raised in the ranks and spontaneously promoted until now he was, ridiculously, the champion of these armies and seen as something of their only hope left alive against the werepyres. And now he was going to die, killed by creatures spawned by an assassin before the final battle even began. How pathetic.
'No!' He forced himself to spin about and raise his guard, even though he could feel his strength deserting him, and was rewarded by seeing the closest of the beasts get thrown back by an arrow in its heart. The sight marveled Demenn's fatigue-addled brain, but he still retained enough of his warrior's reflexes to keep his attention fixed upon the five vampires still alive. Surprisingly, only two charged at him. One stayed back, as they had before, to see what he would do, while the other two ran past him to a place he could not spare the time it would take to look.
When they attacked, however, it was obvious to him that two were enough. One reached him first and slashed out, which Demenn forced himself to duck under while shifting his body's weight from one foot to the other and ending the evasive maneuver with a slash. Both of them jumped back just enough for his sword to bass by, and then lunged in. Their four arms came at him as if from one body, and four sharp points shot straight at him. In a rush of movement and decisions, Demenn blocked two on the left side by shoving his sword vertically that way, dodged the third by shoving his head to the side, but then found that nothing he could do would deter the last one from striking him, so he kicked up his leg. In his mind, it was a better thing to lose than his life.
Just as the tip neared his knee, however, a blade came from behind him on his right side and slapped it down, robbing it of danger. Then a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back as a vampire stepped between him and the three beasts. Demenn stumbled with the jerked movement before finally falling to one knee and looking up. When he saw Niethel in front of him, a sigh escaped his lips. Niethel risked one quick look behind.
"No worries, Demenn, I got this."
To the right, Demenn heard clashing of metal, and saw Brand in his elf from fighting off the two vampires that had ran past him moments before. He moved his single two-handed elven sword with such grace and fluidity that it seemed light as a feather, and was able to keep up with the four blades presented him with ease.
Meanwhile, the two vampires that were attacking Demenn seemed unsure, and the third was even less determined. They did now know whether to try to kill Demenn still, as their orders had said, or try to kill this new one, or even help their two brothers against the elf. Ultimately, their decision was made for them when Niethel, taking advantage of their momentary confusion, lunged at the closest.
Even though it had lost its momentum, its reaction was perfect in that it stabbed out with both of its blades aimed right for his chest. When he twisted to the side, however, and shoved its right wrist out of the way with his left hand, it found that before it knew it, he was inside its guard, with one hand passing behind him, and the other moving to the side. Quick as death, Niethel brought his left hand back in a fold and then shot it out in a palm hand to its face. It could feel its nose crack under the pressure, but refused to give in to the pain. It backed up just a bit and bent its arms at the elbows, intent on running the vampire through. It was, of course, only then that it noticed the strange device barely protruding from Niethel's sleeve, and the small leather strap it had mistaken for a ring around his middle finger. All he did was flick down his middle finger, and with a twang a bolt flew from his sleeve and into the beast's eye.
As the first of them fell to the ground, after barely a moment had passed, Niethel flipped the sword in his hand until it was in a upside-down hold, with the pommel by his thumb and the guard by his smallest finger. As he grabbed his dirk from its sheath, he brought his sword hand back until his arm was a straight line to the ground, and his blade was facing up, and charged the second one. When it swung down with one blade and cocked the other back, he brought his dirk up and angled it upwards so that the blade hit it and slid down until it hit his guard. When it did, he shoved the two weapons to his left as hard as he could, spinning his body with it as well.
The vampire beast, caught of guard and off balance, still shot out its second blade as it had intended, but Niethel's spin took to him to the side of it, and once he was, he finished the spin by bringing up his sword hand with the strange guard and slicing off its head as he passed by. The second one began to fall as well, and now the last one realized that it was the only one left to fight this vampire, and that if it did not attack now, it would be attacked and killed in return. With a snarl, it ran at him and slashed inwards with both of its weapons
at once. In response, Niethel planted his feet and placed his sword and dirk out to the sides. With the dirk tilted upwards and the sword tilted down. When the weapons met, just as before, the beast's blades slid along Niethel's until they hit the guards and then they stayed there.
It could tell that it was stronger than he was, especially in the position that they were in, and that if it was just able to overpower him a fraction more, his resistance would break and it would take his head. It was this knowledge that kept it from pulling its blades back and stabbing them into Niethel, as he had planned. They struggled for several moments before Niethel picked up his foot and slammed it down on the beast's exposed knee. With a sharp snap, its leg bent inwards and it let out a cry of pain. He dropped his foot back, and then shot it back out to pound his boot into its chest, shoving it back a few feet, and then kicked one last time and rammed the very tip of it into its chin.
