Push the Limit

There's screaming coming from the temple district, people running in all directions to get away from the source of the chaos that is currently taking place. It's not the source of the mayhem however. No, the place that people are truly fleeing from is the temple of Vardama. Most of the people therein have already fled however. Now the only thing that comes forth from there are the sounds of those unlucky enough to not have escaped in time. Dying cries and moans as someone exits the building.

It's a hard figure to make out in what little light that remains. He's a tall man, easily over six feet tall, but it's his pale skin that marks him out. His dark clothing that gives the illusion that his face and hands are floating in midair. Holding one priest by the collar while he grins broadly and walks out of the temple. His face is stained red, his hands painted crimson. The priest is covered in it as well, but still alive; still fighting the hands that hold him as easily as a babe.

Screams. Thats what draws Gareth as he walks through the temple district, jogging towards what he hears, pulling out his quarter staff as he jogs a bit quickly to try and get to the source of the screaming, already knowing he won't get there for another minute or two.

Merek makes his way to the square while he pulls his cape about him, shifting upon dark attire. The Theurge notices the vampire while he takes a moment to unsheath his weapon, then he lifts up his longsword.

The screams startle many, but the doors to the Temple of the Seeress fairly slam open, and Seldan bolts out at a dead run into the night, swordbelt held in one hand. He pauses only long enough to take stock of where it's coming from, then runs into where everyone else flees. Only when he sees the figure in its paleness does he stop, his eyes narrowing. The face is not familiar, but he's holding a Mourner, and that right there is enough for the Silver Guard to act.

Azog is just emerging from the Temple of Angoron, having spent an good half-hour pounding on his new clockwork test dummy. Or, rather, the professor's, but he put the man up to it, so he claims a bit of credit in his own mind. So, with a faint sheen of honest sweat, he heads out into the Temple District. The dark doesn't bother him at all, and he will head in the direction of the screaming he hears. Hid first thought is that the followers of Mirth, Tarien as the humans call him, are having a more boisterous party than usual. But the shouts and screaming is coming from the Temple of Feiu of the Tears. Her priests are not known for their partying, so he assumes something is happening that ought to be investigated. So he will run to investigate.

While the Temple District isn't the most frequent of Iolaire's haunts, occasionally she likes to visit Serriel's temple, and possibly talk shop with some of the weapons instructors once class is done. So it's not long after the screams begins, that the armored gyrfalcon emerges in full fight-mode, crest risen, wings mantled, and heavy flail in hand. Pushing her way through the escaping throngs, she stumbles to a halt once she catches sight of the priest, and the thing that holds him. She sucks in a deep breath, eyes wide as dinner plates. "-You!-"

Not all Vardaman require, nor desire, transportation from the temple via another source, whether by collar, carriage, or gravity. "You shall release him at once!" comes a demand from behind the descending pair. A firm one and loud enough to be heard, but not especially powerful and certainly not deep. Befitting the caller who trails behind standing perhaps three-quarters the stature of the priest. The only thing voluminous of Verna are her dark robes, which may make her person even far less conspicuous to others than her voice.

The sounds of screaming have drawn Molly out of the Temple of Navos; she comes running, clutching her Glaive openly in hand. She looks around, breathless, until she spots the figure emerging from the Temple of Vardama; she runs the last distance up to the foot of the temple steps, and stops there, next to Iolaire. "Let him go!" she shouts to the man holding the priest.

A low grinding noise exits the strange man, and you slowly realize that this... this is the sound of his laughter. It gives you chills down your spine. It's just such an unsettling sound. He casually throws the man he's holding to the ground though the man flies several feet and lands in front of the fountain with a solid crack that tells you he broke a few bones in his landing. "As you wish." His voice is deeply accented. Some of you might recognize the elvish tint though he himself doesn't look remotely elvish, and the tint is more a human tounge though one from a land that is unfamiliar to you. Then he moves like lightning, grabbing Verna by her robes and pulling her close to himself. "You my friend are much more interesting yes?"

He holds Verna between himself and those of you who are bearing weapons against him, his bright green eyes almost seeming to glow in the darkness. They're unnaturally green; bright like a cat's eyes. He takes a deep breath, clearly scenting Verna and grins at her, his eyes as piercing as they are bright. "You will aid me will you not?"

GAME: {*} Verna rolls will: (8)+17: 25

Jogging around a corner, Gareth finally shows up just to stop and study the situation.

Azog sees that there is mischief afoot, and he will shoulder his shield and draw his sword, though when the fellow picks up Verna, he groans. "Not another hostage situation," he complains, and will stand his ground, because the last time he took action, he was thoroughly reprimanded. So he will watch and see how ALexandrians solve this situation.

Merek looks to the vampire, while he seems to consider a moment, then he takes up a hand while he summons a spear into it of light and purity, aiming that for the vampire.

Seldan's eyes go wide as the priest is tossed away, and Verna gets grabbed by the - whoever this is. He shoots a quick look at the priest crumpled by the fountain, but after a breath of indecision, raises a hand and draws an arcane sigil in the air, followed by a shouted phrase, and a point, not at Kol, but at Verna.

GAME: Seldan casts Grease. Caster Level: 10 DC: 16
GAME: Merek casts Spear of Purity. Caster Level: 6 DC: 15
GAME: Merek rolls ranged: (5)+8: 13

Molly watches the poor priest get flung; the sickening sound of bones crunching makes her flinch. She looks back up at the man grabbing Verna now, but it looks like other people might just have that handled, at least for a moment; she she runs over to the priest instead, dropping her Glaive beside him as she kneels. "You'll be okay," she murmurs, "You're going to be okay." She holds her hand out over him, as she invokes the divine to heal his wounds. "The pain will go away, I promise.

"One iss glad--" the sith-makar is saying. Svarshan's voice is warm and relaxed as he'd exited the temple alongside an aged man. And then--then there is screaming. There's a man with glowing, green eyes.

"...please. Return to the temple. Warrior-caste will make thiss ssafe."

And more loudly, "Whoever you are! You fasse not one, but thoussands! Alessandria ISS LIGHT! And LIGHT! SSTANDS TOGETHER!" He shouts, he yells, his heart beating too fast. But, it serves a purpose--the man he'd been with steps back towards the temple doors.

Verna glares back at Kol, though without any menacing glow from her eyes. "I. Shall. Nnnn.." She does not quite complete her statement as intended, and the negative is an extremely important portion. "... aid you."

"Thousands?" The vampire - for that is what he is, looks at Svarshan with interest, easily sidestepping Merek's spear of light. Which is perhaps just as well considering that Verna was also in the way. Grease covers the poor woman, and Kol lets go of her with a brief flicker of disgust that shows in his eyes but not in his smile. Casually he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the grease away, letting the cloth fall when he's done with it. "Well my friends, I am Kol Demontry, and if I am to face thousands of you tonight know that I will do my best to give you some-thing to remember. Though it is quite a tall order even for myself." With those words he holds out his arms, welcoming you with that endless smile of his. "Come, play with me."

Meanwhile the priest that Molly aids groans in relief and pain, offering her a faint smile. "Thank you. Beware that man... he's a vampire, and he's been feeding like a glutton off the blood of my brothers and sisters." He looks pale.

"Thousands? Wow, someone has high expectations. Wanna tell Mr. Dragon there to /not/ give away the people lining up behind whats his face with the fucked up eyes? Seriously, I've heard of pink eye, but this is ridiculous." Gareth quips as he starts walking forward a few more paces, although he still remains /well/ behind the others, looking over those people who have gathered, before looking back towards 'Kol', and raises an eyebrow. "... Your demonic make-up? /Wow/, did people get your future life style absolutely correct there." And then he goes to join Molly, because Gareth is an idiot smartass on more then a couple occasions.

Merek's spear doesn't manage to hit, but he does shift a bit to lift up his weapon while he places that into a sheath, and shifts about to check upon the vampire, looking to think a bit.

"KOL DEMONTRY!" shrills a cry from the gathered crowd, as Iolaire squeezes her way to the front.

Facing down the vampire, the bird's weapon blazes to light. "I had thought you'd grow to be a better person than your *Vater!*"

By the look in Iolaire's eye, the vampire posturing before them is a bitter, bitter disappointment.

Azog spots Svarshan arriving and breathes a sigh of relief. He accounts himself a person to be reckoned with, but he knows Svar is much more of a warrior than he is, and with absolutely no love for vampires. He probably could sit back and watch at this point, but that's not his way, and so he will approach the vampire with a kind of sideways spiralling walk, to catch it between himself and Svarshan. The old cliche 'caught between a rock and a hard place' comes to mind. He will stride closer, preparing to rush in when Svarshan does. As he expects Svarshan to, anyhow. He's really not clear on how Alexandrians do these things. But when Verna is released, he will flourish his blade in a display of prowess, perhaps to psych himself up, and then he will approach the vampire. Well, he said to come play, and Azog's good with that.

GAME: Azog rolls intimidate+4: (13)+27+4: 44

Svarshan says, "...Sseldan," Svarshan says then. And then...then? He reaches into his pack, and tosses the man a container. Along the side, it reads: Sovereign Glue.

"Thiss one heard you had good aim," he says obliquely, and looks to the vampire. "Light," he grates out, "Ssstands together. Thiss ssity has sstood before and. It will again. ...and when sshe wakess up," he says, with a glance to Verna and back, "...sshe will be. Pissed."

The eyes are warm, but in a different way. "You have ssigned your own. Death warrant."

Seldan lowers his hand. He got the desired result from his spell, even if the final outcome is not what he had hoped. Instead of drawing the sheathed blade in his hand, though, he narrows his eyes at the vampire. That name he's heard, among his dealings with those who have crossed paths with the Mistress and her lackey, but then Svarshan is tossing him a container, and without thinking, he reaches to catch and examine it. He looks up, palms it, and takes a few steps forward. "Kol Demontry. The Mistress' lackey," he begins in that Myrrish-tinted accent, not drawing the sword. "Before we play, I would know a thing. Tell me of Dylan Hunt."

As he speaks, he watches Kol keenly.

Verna turns to face the crowd, still standing before Kol. Gloved hands move and words are uttered, though they do not carry The Master's message. He is one to deliver it, she is merely to aid him in its dissemination.

GAME: Verna casts Lesser Globe of Invulnerability. Caster Level: 15 DC: 19

"Vater?" For a brief moment the name seems to spark something in Kol's memory, his looks around as if expecting to see someone, more curious than anything else, but when he doesn't see that person he is easily distracted by other things. A weapon readied and aimed at him, the whirling display seems to excite him. He drops one hand at his side and welcomes Azog more seriously with the one that remains outstretched. "Passion is what I seek, such as his, such as hers."

He glances briefly at Seldan and shrugs. "I know not this name, but forget them and play with me, my friend. Come, bring me your sweet blood and passionate fight!"

Walking towards Molly, Gareth glances towards where Verna is, frowning at himself slightly as he looks at her, before he leans down towards Molly and the priest, saying something softly, before standing up and offering her a bland smile. And then he stands up abruptly, tossing his quarterstaff up lightly and then throwing it like a spear at the woman who had just cast the globe of invulnerability.

"Azog...vampiress like thiss. They possess the ability to control crowds. He hass control of a powerful priesst. ..." the warrior-caste turns. The inner lids flicker. "Thiss entire crowd iss in danger sso long as they sstay closse."

"If he gainss power over them, warrior. We all loose. A ssacrifice of hundress of ssouls to. Hiss goddess. One hearss the voisse of your people iss legendary. Can it be ussed to drive them away from. Him?"

He drops a blade into his hand, then. ...and looks to Verna. "No, no you do not. Your choisse is YOURSS!" And he attempts to do the most terrifying thing a sith-makar knows how to do. Unleash an angry female on her captor. With fangs.

He aims the prayers of Daeus at Verna, in an attempt to break the enchantment. The egalrin? The egalrin seems to know something. Something /important/, judging by how the vampire had paused. But, unchain the angry priestess.

GAME: Svarshan casts Break Enchantment. Caster Level: 20 DC: 22
GAME: Azog rolls intimidate+4: (15)+27+4: 46

Azog is not entirely used to vampires inviting him to attack, but that's what he's got. He's not going to back out now! He can't. But Svar has tasked him with clearing the square, and that seems reasonable as well. He turns on the crowd, and the bellow is deafening as he shouts savagely, "Begone!" There may be some people up in the castle that didn't hear it. If they had wax in their ears. And their head in a bucket. The rest of the people, the onlookers, the priests, the passersby, are almost physically assaulted by the volume of the shout, and the savagery behind it is a story of raw violence at the end of a sword. There are more than a few damp shoes squishing away from the scene post haste.

Verna catches a stave to the hood as the Brightscale brings The Sun's light to the same. Whether by divine inspiration, arcane concussion, or a combination thereof, Verna is left wobbling a moment to reconsider her position.

"Even so?" Seldan takes a few more steps towards Kol, but still he has not yet drawn the blade. "Vater." He looks back at Iolaire, measuringly, then at the vampire. He'll have to ask about that, later. "I do not think I wish to play, today." Instead of going for blade or spell, he dashes the vial he'd palmed at the stone at Kol's booted feet, as hard as he can without catching Verna, then backpedals with a wide-eyed -look- at Azog.

GAME: Merek casts Prayer. Caster Level: 6 DC: 16

Merek lifts up a hand, while he chants a supplication to Eluna, and a circle of the blessing begins to shift around all people about him, granting them a little bit of the assistance!

Molly stands up slowly, after arranging the priest into a more comfortable position. "Vampire," she replies, her words curdled with distaste as she takes up her glaive once more. "Such filth cannot be suffered to live." She eases a few of the wooden stakes in the bandoleer across her chest. "Stay here," she adds. "Rest, you'll be fine." With that she turns to approach the steps once more, moving quietly to stand amongst those facing Kol once more.

Azog stops to scare off the crowd, and it seems that Kol does not like this very much for the man moves quickly once again, evading the vial at his feet purely by chance and shorting the distance between him and the warrior. "If you will not fight me, perhaps that lovely lady there?" He motions toward Molly, grinning at Azog as his green eyes bore into the warriors. "Kill her."

GAME: Azog rolls will: (13)+7: 20
GAME: Svarshan casts Paladin's Sacrifice. Caster Level: 20 DC: 20

Verna regains her senses and awareness in time to see the ground about her, and possibly her boots, are covered in contents from the shattered vial. Whether to be better heard or convey her return to order, she doffs her hood before calling out, "Evacuate all who can!" Her eyes move to those she recognizes... and one already seems under his sway so she focuses on the other: Svarshan. "Brightscale! You know I am a threat to all should he overpower my will! Do what you must to stop me should it come to pass!"

Now her attention pans to Kol. They have a discussion to continue. As she expected, he already conceded to her original demand: the priest was released. Now she will ensure that others are met.

His staff flying back towards him, Gareth catches it lightly and twirls it for a moment, before looking towards Azog, when he is told to kill Molly. Frowning slightly, Gareth tilts his head... Before stepping in front of Molly and offering Azog a cheerful smile. "Hello Azog. You don't want to kill me,right?

Azog's eyes cross as the vampire stares into his eyes, takes control of him, and he misses a step, stumbling as he changes direction, now turning on Molly. Bit wait, he did want to fight the vampire! No, he's turned his attention to Molly, a deadly focus of his attention. This may leave a mark. He is unstoppable as he rushes Molly in the throes of vampiric mind control, pushing past Gareth as if he were inconsequential, and he slashes down with his sword, a deadly blow for most.

The blow comes down--and hard, with Azog's full force behind it. But, but--

And but.

Prayers to the Dragonfather roar outwards, leaping forward with exposed fangs and snatch the hit away from Molly before it can ever strike. That same energy burns and coils--leaving Svarshan blooded and bruised, instead.

And then it bursts, spilling over the paladin and those nearby him. It hits Seldan, roaring to life--the song of the Heavens. The brightness of light.

"WE ARE THE LIGHT AND WE SSTAND. AS ONE!" Spittle flies at the vampire. And he staggers, casting about for Io. The other warrior. THE WARRIOR. Where is she??

Molly turns, just pieceing together what's happening as Azog rushes her; Gareth, bless his soul, tries to intervene but Azog rushes past him regardless. THe man is just an onslaught on legs it seems. "Wait, I--" is all she manages to get out of her mouth, before his sword is coming down on her. She's trained for this, of course. She raises her glaive to ward off the blow, but it isn't going to be enough; not nearly enough. She's definitely about to lose her head; but somehow, it doesn't happen. ...Still. Azog is still in front of her, and still under orders. "Wait," she gasps, taking a step back, "Don't do this, stop!"

Gareth, who was standing in front of Molly, is suddenly pushed to the side. Now, a small half-elf getting shoved by a massive, trained, warrior with borderline inhuman strength, and is more then twice his weight and almost half again his height? Yea, Gareth's feet /easily/ leave the ground as he is tossed a dozen feet, easy, before he rolls and smacks into something. No bones break, thankfully, but its still like getting kicked by a horse.

Sometimes, patience is required in the midst of chaos. The right moment can make all the difference when the enemy does not focus on you. And as Kol passes next to her, she turns her head and takes the opportunity.

"KOL DEMONTRY," Iolaire skrees into his ear, "I DID NOT TEACH YOU HOW TO PROPERLY CHANGE YOUR SISTER'S NAPPIES SO YOU COULD TURN AROUND AND *DO THIS!*"

Sometimes, the right word at the right time can make all the difference.

Kol's grin widens as Azog listens to his words and sets about attacking Molly. It hardly seems to matter to him at all that the woman takes no damage from the wounds. She will in time, of this he is certain. In fact, he is about to move, to do /something/ when Iolaire's words stop him. Confusion flashes across his face and his smile becomes a bemused one. "Pardon? Do we know one another, you and I?" He stalks closer to her. Slowly, the blood on his body making it menacing though that isn't intentional. He's just unnatural in every way; his body moves and it's just /wrong/ like a puppet drawn on strings rather than how a human should move. "You say my name with such vigor my friend." He shudders and blinks languidly at her. Now they're almost close enough to touch. "I can not remember the last time I tasted one of your kind."

Blinking blearily, the daylights knocked out of him, Gareth stirs slightly, before he lifts his quarterstaff up to shoot it out at the back of Kol's head, still a bit dazed even as he goes to get back to his feet. Oh, its undoubted that the vampire won't get hurt, however if the quarterstaff does hit him... Well, it'll distract them, at least

Azog's first attack was ineffective, it seems, he's missed how it wounded Svarshan. But he's now angry and frustrated and filled with oruch fury and vampiric mind control. Growing to twice his height in the blink of an eye, Molly will see a sixteen-foot oruch standing over her, winding up into a whirlwind of bloody mayhem. With a side order of carnage. Hold the onions.

"Perhaps you don't remember," the war-bird retorts, staring at a point a few inches above the vampire's head. If meeting his gaze is enough to enthrall, then there are remedies. "It was long, long ago. You were just a boy, showing kindness to lost travellers. They rewarded you with magic and wonder, and food enough to fill your belly and that of the sister your worthless father hadn't seen fit to name. But you did. Tell me... what became of little Nalla, Kol?"

And once again the blazing steel sun is slung over her shoulder, the armored warrior perhaps not looking nearly so towering and immovable as she may have to a scrawny lad of seven years.

"What would she say to this bloodbath you've started?"

The vampire's attention is distracted. Now is Seldan's chance - and before he gets to the Egalrin! "Enough. There is no place among the people of the Light for such as you," he growls, then raises his voice. "The fires of the sun and moon take you!" Grasping at the fires that wrapped around him without thinking, he takes the anger of both deities as his own, and snarls, "_ALACHA_."

As he speaks, his cloak clasp begins to unfold in a clatter of heavy steel, leaving his cloak unfastened about his shoulders. He grabs it in both hands, holding the swordbelt still, and rushes the distracted vampire, but not to injure. Oh no. If he can, he'll wrap that night-blue cloak over Kol's face and head, holding it down hard in hopes of bringing him down blind.

Molly backs off a step, gripping her glaive tightly with both hands, while the oruch she's facing just... grows, doubling in size in front of her and utterly dwarfing her. She'd love to be helping with the Vampire, but right now there's a really big Oruch problem in front of her that has her attention, and she's sweating bullets, but running away would be even more dangerous for civilians who might get in the way. "Fight it," she calls to him. "Fight it -- The mind control, I mean! Not me! Don't fight *me* I'm just a priestess and not even a high ranking one!"

"You shall ensnare no more!" Verna once more states fact to Kol, more more vehemently. She will gladly watch him be lectured by Iolaire. No, she will aid her, but all can be enabled and are not mutual exclusive. "You cannot defy the Order. You cannot defy Her Judgement. You, yourself, shall be ensnared by your deeds!" Verna reaches low and then skyward with each hand, arcing one over the other and repeating.

With each gesture, massive chains in of the very ethereal, silvery material of the planes beyond spring through the ground below, seeking to overlay and enwrap the would-be defier so that he cannot harm nor influence others.

GAME: Verna casts Chains of Light. Caster Level: 15 DC: 21

Merek looks to the vampire, then he takes a moment to gesture with both hands, while he lifts them up. A flame begins to form, while it shifts to a beam which is sent towards the vampire.

GAME: Merek casts Scorching Ray. Caster Level: 5 DC: 16

Svarshan looks over. Bloodied. The Dragonfather's blessing, the scales, took the sting of it--but? But still. There's a deep gash along his arm that pours blood to the earth.

He rolls his shoulders, and the Light seals it. "...perhapss," he says, somewhat out of breath. "The priesstess has her. Jusstice."

Things are coming together, very rapidly. He looks to the egalrin. "One iss ssorry. If thiss was your. Youngling," he says to her.

"Nalla?" Again that same questioning tone, the same glance around as though he might see the person in question. "Where is my Nalla?" There's confusion there and then... Something thunks against the back of his head. It's enough to send him backwards a few steps, not in pain but in surprise that it hit him.

Suddenly things are moving very quickly. Merek fires off a beam of light that arcs through the air to where the vampire had just been standing, to where Seldan is just now stumbling into place to try and blind him. Where chains of light are rising up to bind. All of it where Seldan is standing - not Kol.

"None of you are my Nalla!" He turns his blazing eyes on Iolaire. "None of you are mine... yet. None but my warrior!" He laughs suddenly and motions for her to come to him. Iolaire. "Come my friend. Feed me again."

GAME: Iolaire rolls will+2: (20)+8+2: 30 (CRITICAL SUCCESS)

"For a moment. You made him remember who. He wass. A creature of Thul or Illoth--"

Silence.

Too long of a silence.

"Iss your mistress Illotha, Kol Demontry? Thiss woman you. Sspeak of." A step forward. The sword in a protective, defensive position. "Loss. Betrayal. ..."

And some thought occurs. Some /thought/. He nearly spits. "Bloody. Effing. Ssoftskins!" Svarshan snarls, and the grip on the blade changes. Light surges forward, and strikes the warrior bird, Gareth, and himself.

...and he isn't there. Seldan's cloak catches empty air, and avoiding the chains requires a good bit of dodging. Unfortunately, dodging the chains puts him square in the path of a thrown quarterstaff from behind - and a spell! Both of the latter two strike, the quarterstaff catching him at the base of the skull. The Elunan crumples to the cobblestones, unconscious, even as Merek's spell burns his skin.

Verna frowns... no, scowls as the chains are inadvertently avoid and, worse, may grasp an unintended target. Even more terrifying is that said scowl is actually visible for once. She turns attention and scowl both to the rampaging warrior and gestures, seeking to unravel the ensorcellment of his mind. This may or may not make Azog less inclined to strike, but shall allow him the opportunity to direct his might away from the innocent.

GAME: Verna casts Break Enchantment. Caster Level: 15 DC: 20

"Oh I shall feed you, Kol Demontry," Iolaire whispers, as the light strikes her, setting feathers aglow with the light of the blessed Sun, and turning the head of her weapon into a ball of crackling fire. A smooth motion of her shoulder rolls the chain off it, a hand catching the blazing steel ball with one hand. "But only good little children get a filling meal. Nasty bullies get what *your father got.*"

Rearing back, using all the strength granted to her by training, battle, and -- most relevant in this moment -- the light of Daeus' most ardent servants, she simply mashes the ball of thunder, light, and holy fire into the vampire's face.

Perhaps too heavy a meal for some.

Azog will toss aside his shield and clutch at his sword in both hands, raising it, slamming it down on Molly. She's blocking his attacks with the haft of her glaive? A sunder will put a stop to that, he imagines. And then hacking at the woman like a madman, out of control.

The big ol' wooden thing that smacked him in the back of the head, comes flying back to Gareth's hands and he stands up, slowly, using it to rest slightly before Gareth's hand snaps out to the side, flashing through several moments, murmuring softly to himself casting quickly and skillfully as he stares at Kol's back.

Molly's pleading for a halt has come to naught; the massive Oruch's sword comes down on her, and she blocks it of course; but the haft splinters and the weapon breaks clean in half. The blow impacts with her breastplate and sends her sprawling on her back. She scrabbles backwards, dropping the bottom half of her weapon and clutching the top like a sword, as she does her best to ward off blow after blow.

Azog is clearly a superior fighter, and then some, to her. The first blow catches her in the shoulder, and draws blood; she cries out, trying to ward off more blows as they reign down on her, but she can't, there's just too many. She takes another in the side, then one in the gut, then another to her leg, and then she just collapses, laying on her back again and holding her weapon up above her protectively (but not effectively). "STOP!" she screams, "Stop, stop, please stop!" She looks up at Kol on the steps, "You made your point, let him stop, please! Don't make him a murderer!"

"I know none of these names." Kol snaps the words out at Svarshan, shaking his head and grinning ruthlessly. There's a sound coming. The sound of boots on the stone. The sound of guards on their way to aid you. He has no other answer before Iolaire is coming in, her attack misses him horribly. He doesn't even have to step out of the way... it's more like some part of her is loathe to attack him. Perhaps the part that remembers a little boy who was just trying to take care of a baby.

Molly cries out in pain and Kol holds out his hand toward the warrior. "Stop." His command makes the man stop in his tracks as if frozen and Kol grins. "I do not want you dead my beauty. Look at you, caped in red. Beautiful. Come with me my warrior, it is time for us to go I think."

GAME: Azog rolls will+4: (6)+7+4: 17
GAME: Azog rolls will+4: (20)+7+4: 31 (CRITICAL SUCCESS)

Ice forms quickly in Gareth's hand as he finishes the spell, before he tosses the dagger up, catching the ice blade by the blade before he throws it at the vampire, aiming for the chest with a vicious, blessed roll, attempting to make it fly straight and true,into the vampires chest.

GAME: Merek casts Scorching Ray. Caster Level: 5 DC: 16
GAME: Azog rolls bluff: (6)+0: 6

Azog is called off the attack, which will halt the rain of swordblows falling on Molly. He turns slowly, a considering look on his face as he glances aside at Svarshan and the others. He looks at the vampire fellow, and is suddenly, and uncharacteristically, sweetness and light. "Oh, sure. I'll come with you, yeah." He turns to face Svarshan and the others, winks broadly, no way the vampire can see that, right, and will approach the vampire, prepared to strike.

Merek lifts up a hand while he begins to throw another scorching flame towards the vampire when he sees the others all aiming for him.

"Sshe would use any of. Them." Rough. Svarshan's hand edges towards something. Just a little magic to call it forward, right?

"...you have the ssubtlety of a brick, vampire. One hass fassed many of your sspecies. Of them you are sstronger, fasster. And sserve a Woman of Loss whosse tears burn as razors when they fall from. Her fasse. Her bitterness conssumes her even as sshe sscreams for her losst lover."

"A vampire of your sstrength iss a divine sservant. And only Illotha iss that. Narcissistic."

Molly breathes out a sigh of relief, and finally lets go of what's left of her weapon. She pants heavily, clutching one hand to a wound -- one of several, all of them bleeding profusely -- and looks up at Kol. "Thank you," she gasps. She is not thanking him for the strange compliment. With visible strain, she drags herself a few feet further back, and lays back down. "Navos," she gasps, "Grant me your mercy, I beg you." The words of a more divine nature are chanted, and she claps a hand to her chest; glowing warmth envelops her, and her wounds knit. Not all the way, to be sure, but at least death is staved off for a time.

Kol grins, shakes his head at you. All of you. There are guards approaching, slowing at the sight of adventurers gathered around the monster. "I serve only my Mistress, and she is..." He trails off, cocking his head to the side. "Listening. She says that I should not tell you her name. Names have power. You can only have mine."

He looks down at Azog and shakes his head. "You lie, your words and deeds speak for you, and I /hate/ lies. We will meet again my warrior." He nods and then quite suddenly disappears. Gone into the shadow he is standing in without a trace of where he has gone.

-End