A Holy Rest (Open)

Was he really a vampire? He wasn't sure. His eyes flickered back between the man dressed in black robes and the mer in common threads. Between the two, it was obvious which one was more sinister in appearance. They were both strangers, but the Red-Nord felt that he owed some kind of debt to this Alucard fellow. He and his Khajiit associate did in fact saved their lives after all.

Not only that, but being called a buffoon stung.

"I am not a buffoon," he reiterated out loud. There was no anger in it, just a small, hurt denial. "The fact remains that they saved our lives. Perhaps you should leave," he suggested to the man in robes.

There was no need to fall into a threatening stance of any sort. Rithle was already intimidating enough with her icy glare - and the Khajiit brandishing the daggers certainly added to the effect. He wasn't keen on another fight so soon - not when time was ticking.

Dar'savi lowered her daggers "Apologies Alaric. Due to the stress of the battle, I took more offense at the remark then I should've" She lied. In actuality, she thought the Nord saw through their ploy. "and I agree with the Red-nord we should take our leave before things get out of hand." She then said standing next to the high elf vampire.

She eased somewhat at Alucard's words - perhaps she'd been too quick to jump the sword, and he had helped them, after all. Rithle took her hand off Nistac's shoulder, still keeping a wary eye at the suspicious newcomer. If he just left, maybe things could be resolved peacefully after all.

And then the Khajiit spoke, and up her arm went once more, this time thrown across her twin's chest, pushing him back.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she said, fixing a critical eye on the Altmer. "Your name isn't Alucard?"

Alaric hid his reaction when Dar'savi slipped and mentioned his real name, hoping that it would go unnoticed. His hopes were dashed however when the female Red-Nord once again became edgy. "Yes, and no. Alaric is the name my parents gave me at birth. My friends call me this and my family used to. Alucard is the name I received when I was dedicated to the Divines. It is the name I most commonly use, especially when on business. We were resting for the night when you were attacked. My priestly garments are back at the farmhouse if you would like proof... I have the inscribed amulet from my dedication there as well." He had prepared this entire thing, the amulet, the story, everything, ages in advance. After all, an assassin relied not only on the ability to kill, but also on their ability to talk their way out of suspicion.

"Besides," he continued, "Shouldn't you be more worried about the Necromancer with a magical weapon drawn than which of my names you know? I'm sure Rithle is not your only name, as you no doubt have something or several somethings you are otherwise known as to a select few..." He knew logic was his best friend at this moment. He wanted these younglings to remain on his side, it was all he needed to have to kill a bunch of young ones because they found out his secret.

All throughout the rebuttals he kept his eye on the Necromancer. He knew that someone was eventually going to make a move, it was just a matter of who and when, that much he knew...

"I see that I am outnumbered and these people actually believe you so i will go now, But I will be watching you vampire. And if you want to know how i know it is that I work with a lot of vampires so I know how to spot them" he said backing away.

Perhaps he was just good with words, but she felt inclined to believe him, if only a little. Though she was wary of strangers in general, he hadn't really given them too much reason for doubt. To that effect, she was almost disappointed when the necromancer backed off - Rithle always liked a fight, foolhardy as that was.

"Sorry about that," she sighed, crossing her arms. "It's just this barnacle," she gestured to Nistac, "is just so gullible sometimes, I have to be on my toes constantly."

The elder sibling could almost feel her brother's glare burning into the back of her head.

"That wretched scoundrel! That horrid defiler! I can't believe it! How dare he attempt to sully my name in such a way!" He hissed as the necromancer left. "If we weren't on strict orders not to - I've half a mind to - OOOOOHHHH!" After his little rant he focused crackling electrical energy to his hands, playing up his act of righteous rage and looking like he was chomping at the bit to get after the death dabbler in order to make him pay.

He sighed as Rithle spoke, "I honestly can't say that I blame you... I would probably react the same way if the glove were on the other hand." It had worked! The younglings had bought his story and now he was home free. All he needed to do was get back to the farm house and they could continue their journey to the sanctuary. He glanced around at the darkness, feigning not being able to see, and in doing so, caught sight of his atronarch. "Protect us..." he muttered into the inky blackness...

Dar'savi gave and nod in farewell to Rithle and his companions, Before turning around and walking into the blackness of the night with her brother. She focused on listening the sounds behind her, the unsheathing of a blade, the creaking of a bow, the cracking of a charging spell...

(Alaric isn't leaving yet... Feel free to play off of him more.)

Dar'savi saw her brother pretending to have trouble seeing in the darkness. As a Khajiit, she had no need for such a ruse "It's best you let me lead the way brother, for I can see better in darkness of the night." She said to him offering to guide him by hand.

Alaric pretended to be offended. "I can see the glow from the windows from all the way down here, Kari. You go on ahead, as I'm not quite ready to go yet. And I'm sure I'll mange between the light from the house and my magicks, but I thank you for being concerned." He wasn't quite done here. He still had some things to clear up and he wanted to make absolutely sure that his secret was safely under wraps with no one suspecting his true nature or allegiances. That was really why he was staying, and he also needed to make sure that that foul necromancer was not following them.


(Alaric is NOT leaving this area yet...)

((I know, but I didn't really have much else to work with ))
"Very well brother" she nodded and walks toward the house but after walking a ways away turned sharply and hid behind a tree. The black clock she wears over the brotherhood armor making her almost invisible.

"well you did a great job of concealing your little secret and great costumes by the way"
Edward said, emerging from the shadows. He was quite impressed with how the vampire had covered himself, but he was interested in what a vampire was doing. He knew a great deal of vampires and this one seemed a bit different from your average vampire.

The thundering clap of hooves vibrated upon the grassy surface. The clanking of the heavy metal armor his battle-dressed steed wore clattering with his own charcoal-stained steel armor make a booming rattling noise. Malice stormed towards the direction of the farmhouse. It had been days since they had heard back from the other members of his new twisted family.

He didn't really have a concern about their health, but Astrid was concerned about well-being and sent him to go fetch his comrades and alert them to the presence of a new contract. The Black Sacrament had been performed and the threads of fate had decided that it was time for a Werewolf that lurked in the nearby region to meet his demise.
To take down such a feral beast of the wilds would certainly require a large party.

Even with the help of the Vampiric Mage and Khajit archer, their attempts to kill a monster with such ferocious speed and venomous aggression would be difficult to handle. Even with their wide range of capabilities, the Werewolf could use the advantage of speed to make an elusive escape, and failure was not an option.

Malice had caught a glimpse of familiar faces, though they were definitely not wearing attire accustomed to their faction. It was clear to him that Alaric was up to his clever shenanigans and Dar'savi was accompanying him on his mission.

He wrinkled his nose at the smell of Khajit fur. It was a fragrance commonly detested by him and it often made him nauseous.

He noticed two others in his sight exchanging conversation with Alaric and Dar'savi. He glared at them with disgust.

Men...most had proved to be rather pathetic and served only their own self-satisfying needs. Malice despised them, but the seldom few were able to win his heart and mind. He wondered if these two possessed that capability before dismissing them from his thoughts.

He pulled back at the reigns as his war-horse rose it's front legs up skyward, letting out a few snouts.

Malice's crimson jewels twitched at the sight of the necromancer, who seemed to be causing trouble for his bretheren.

Malice snarled.

A lukewarm bittersweet writhing and seething angst loomed over his aura as he gritted his teeth.

He rolled his neck, the sharp popping noises of his bones filling the air.

He exhaled a heavy grunt as he dismounted his steed and turned towards the necromancer.

His ebony hair draped over the intimidating white ash skull embrodiered upon his face.

A hand raised in the air, and one long stretched out finger pointed at the heart of Edward's robes.

The finger withdrew and Malice's thumb slowly sliced against his own neck.

Cutthroat. A symbol of Hostility.

His message was clear as crystal.

With only a few pounding stomps that ruptured like earthquakes, Malice manifested in the arcane arts to conjure his Battleaxe, Gravedigger.

Alaric heard the thundering of the hooves long before he saw his associate, and by Sithis was he glad to see him. Malice, one of the more... unconventional members of the family was here and had apparently already assessed the situation, much to Alaric's relief. "Ah, Malenwryn, my esteemed associate! I trust your appearance here means that headquarters knows of our victory? Good. Then my restriction on confrontation is lifted and we may dispatch this vile necromancer and send him into the arms of the daedra and dead he so loves. May Stendarr have mercy on his soul, for the Vigil has none to spare!" Alaric always did have a way with words, and with just those few, he had told Malice everything he needed to know. They were posing as the vigil, he wanted the fool dead, and he let him know not all present were to be trusted. It also served to back up his claims even more. If he could, he would laugh evilly, but that would have to wait until they stood over the Nord's body...

He turned his attention back to the necromancer as his ever-so tactical brother brought out one of the most lovely weapons Alaric had ever seen, and he had seen quite a lot of weaponry in the last century or so. "And now to deal with you... My associate's presence here is quite wonderful really, as it means that headquarters not only knows where we are but has sent backup, which further means that we are no longer on reconnaissance and may engage in some of the more... delightful aspects of being a vigilant. AKA Killing you." He smiled slightly, already imagining him hanging up the Nord's body and experimenting on him. He truly wished he could take care of him like he had the bandits that he had eliminated all those years ago, but he would settle for his brother's brutal mutilating, as long as he got to get some damage in of course...

"Divines damn you for your immoral crimes!" he roared, his hands crackling wildly with magical lightning. Brilliant blue arcs illuminated the air around them as he loosed the mighty thunderbolts at the necromancer. It was go time, and he was taking no prisoners. Alaric had a vendetta with him and wouldn't rest until he lay dead! Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the magic travelled to his target, the thrill and rage causing his adrenaline to begin pumping, and as soon as the spell cleared his hand, he readied himself with a ward in one hand...

Suddenly edward was not so sure of himself, maybe they weren't vampires but they were most certainly NOT vigilants of stendarr.
"You have made an enemy of the coven and you will pay the price, whoever you are" He shouted at them.

He hurled an ice spear at them while placing a frost rune in front of him, Then he drank a potion of invisibility and disappeared, running into the night.
He would have to tell the others at Ilinalta's Deep.

Dar'savi smiled when Malice showed up and grinned at Alaric's boost. Popping out from around her tree she knocked and arrow onto her bow and drew it back. However before she could line up the shot the necromancer drank the invisibility potion allowing him to disappear in the darkness. "Sithis damn the coward" the Khajiit muttered before approaching her fellow brothers.


"Thanks for the assistance, brother. Though I must ask, what brings you here? If it's due us being late we got caught up in unavoidable matters such as this and bandits." She asked him. Her and Malice didn't best of teams unlike her and Alaric. Mainly stemming from the fact he hates the smell of khajiit like her.

Frozen shards began to materialize into the Necromancer's hands. Swirls of frost illuminated his palms as he began to bend magic to his will. As Edward drew back his hand, Malice dug his back leg deeper into the dirt and clenched his eyebrows, displaying intense anger, but with a concentrated focus on Edward's fingers. A hasty glance at Edward's eyes revealed his target.

It would seem that his hatred was focused primarily on Alaric. The malovolent grin painted on his face showed it all.

The liquid reaction soldified and launched towards the vampire. Malice's judgement would have to be precise. Timing would be everything.

As soon as the tension of violence released from Edwrad's face, Malice knew it was time to pass judgement.

His legs launched him skyward like catapults as he spun horozontically, throwing his hip into the blow for more dynamic effect.

Mystic steel sliced through the frigid formation and shattered into ice crystals as Gravedigger dug through the width of frost, splintering the ice spear.

A hush fell over Malice as he blinked, inhaling the fumes of battle.

His heart beated to the drums of war.

Alaric's words were inaudible, lifeless, and fruitless to Malice's ears.

Focus.

His eyes creeked open like blinds as a jagged arc of lightning jolted past his face. The electrical discharge that disembarked from the Altmer, reminded him of the great war and the countless battles he fought within.

He had been so familiar with fighting against the arcane battlemages that filled the Aldemeri Dominions front lines.

The cries of his fallen comrades weighted down on his shoulders as he dragged his battleaxe through dirt, dust, and rock in a stunning upheaval towards the sky, sending a blinding dust cloud towards Edward.

Attention focused on Edwards placement of a frost rune, Malice directed his words to Alaric.

"Only charming cowards fight with words...it's about time you actually did something useful."

Malice cut him with his eyes as he stung him with his tongue.

Scolding was something that was bred into Malice.

It was often his resort to teaching the younglings of war the vital aspects to survive battle.

It was the only wisdom he felt worth passing on.

And those that did not listen...often were found disembodied with torn ligaments.

The price of payment for ignorance.

The grim tax of the reaper.

"It is vain for the cowards of the coven to flee. Death follows closely behind!"

The predator scowled as peeked between spun threads of sliky strands of hair swaying in front of his blood-fueled eyes.

"Fade out of existence coward...resist as you may...death's embrace will swallow you...and your grave will be dug with my axe..."

Malice snarled in ferocious exhalation, he longed to paint his battleaxe with the sanguine floods of blood once more.

Pity that he only longed for the blood of the brave. He was not privy to wasting his time and energy chasing after those that lived in fear.

Once he acknowledged that the necromancer must have used his wit to spend the duration of the potion's effect to flee, he rested his battleaxe across his right shoulder and turned towards his two "associates".

Malice voice bellowed out into an unsatisfied grunt.

He hated playing along with Alaric's false charades.

He couldn't help but see a lack of honor in using silver forked tongues.

While Alaric were more attuned to beating around the bush to preserve his true identity, Malice was more prone to burning it.

"Pack your shit...we've got werewolves to hunt."

Blunt, precise, sharp, and to the point.

It was second nature to Malice. Time was of the essence and he had little time for idle chatter.

Nistac blinked - unsure of what had transpired in front of him. There were no words he could eloquently put or anything he could actually do for progression's sake, so he just blinked. He couldn't help it - his mind was numb from restless sleeping, and he didn't have to look at his twin to know she was in a similar state. Except, she could handle it much better because she had the stamina of... of... what had a lot endurance? A horse? Yeah. That would work as a simile, he thought, eying the armored horse with an appreciative glance of the metalwork. That was a lot of armor it was wearing.

His leathers, as much as a second skin as they were to him, were already a little cumbersome - he loathed to even imagine what it would be like to wear heavy armor on a day to day basis. All that metal bearing down on the shoulders, anyone who had to wear that much ought to be dragging themselves in the dust. But seeing the way how his sister - and this new vigilant - moved so effortlessly... well, he had respect from just a glance.

Not to mention - whatever he did just now looked impressive. And frightening - especially with all that blackened gear. He supposed it was for tactical advantage, so they could get the drop on their opponents in the dark, but something about the stained steel was off to him. Like it was blackened for a different and more apprehensive meaning.

There was a rather bad gut feeling squirming in the pit of his stomach, but it wasn't something he could act on. The consequences if his unease was called for was not pleasant. After all - there was only two of them and three - or four if he counted the atronach - of them. He had seen what they could do. For the moment, he'd rather be their allies than their enemies for the sake of courtesy and safety. Enemies were troublesome to have anyway.

Not that he'd be intimately familiar with that concept.

"Do you need help with the werewolf?" he tentatively asked, burying his free hand his bag as he sifted through the items. The sound of faint clinking could be heard as the bottles and meager coins clicked against each others' surface. "I've a few extra soul gems to spare if you need them. It's the least I can do for saving our lives."

He wasn't sure how well he would do against a lycanthrope should they go along with them, but he had his magic and his sister. Between the two of them - they could take almost anything. Except dragons, mammoths, giants, and apparently - quite new to the list - xivilai. Maybe he could even learn a thing or two from the entire experience.

_{"Only charming cowards fight with words...it's about time you actually did something useful."}

Alaric's eyebrows raise in amusement. it had taken him some time to be used to his brother's cleave now, question later attitude, but once he did, he rather enjoyed his presence. He found it quite fun to be a little cheekier than usual when he was around. "Now, now, Malenwryn, play nicely... I know you are just jealous of me, so no need to get your armor in a bind. Besides... that isn't quite what the ladies vying for my affections have been calling me. No, it was things more like, 'charming', 'debonaire', and 'devilishly handsome'. Yes, that's definitely more on target than 'coward'..."

_{"Pack your shit...we've got werewolves to hunt."}

That was Malice for you, always as blunt as the cobblestones which lined the streets of Whiterun. Alaric's voice floated on the wind like a melody as he replied, "Ooh! someone was a bad puppy, I gather? Shame that, it'll take weeks to wash the stench of wet dog out of my robes even if I fight from a distance. Are you sure we can't go after the vampires which supposedly haunt these hills instead?" he finished facetiously. "We can actually use parts of them, or sell them if we are too lazy. And before I forget, thank you for dispatching that rather nasty frost spear, you saved me the magicka."

Alaric looked up in surprise as the boy red-nord suddenly spoke up, him having remained nearly silent save for saying that he wasn't a buffoon.

_{"Do you need help with the werewolf?" he tentatively asked, burying his free hand his bag as he sifted through the items. The sound of faint clinking could be heard as the bottles and meager coins clicked against each others' surface. "I've a few extra soul gems to spare if you need them. It's the least I can do for saving our lives."}

Alaric thought for a moment, the wheels in his head turning, thousands of outcomes whirling around in his head. On one hand, they obviously didn't think him a vampire anymore and wouldn't be frightened out of their wits or rat on them. But also, there was always the chance of them discovering it if he let his guard down in battle or on the road. In the end he decided, "Yes, I suppose we could use some civilian assistance with this task; however, that is all the payment we will need. Thank you for volunteering. I suppose I shall go and collect my gear now. I shall be back momentarily." His hand was covered in fire as he turned and started toward the farmhouse, the palmful of flames acting like a magical torch, not that he needed it, but one must keep up appearances. Such was the curse of vampirism...

Dar'saiv nodded to Alaric as he ran to collet thier stuff she then turned to her new temporary companions "If we are going to fight that beast together then might I ask you for your names. Can't keep calling you Red-Nord no?"

"Weren't you here when I introduced ourselves?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Was that his mind playing tricks on him again? He thought the effects of that experiment had worn off by now. "How are you sure we aren't just Redguards?"

Most just assumed he was from Hammerfell based on the darkness of his skin, and although Rithle was of a lighter tint, her facial features were more reminiscent of their partial western heritage rather than their Nordic blood ties. He'd never had anyone guess their mixed blood on a first glance, and so he was curious of what cues the Khajiit used to discern their origins.

((That was one of my derp posts DX))
"Educated guess really" She stated "blue eyes are rare among redguards but common among nords. I honestly don't what race you are as long as you don't have a problem with mine."

Ah of course - their eye color. He had almost forgotten his were blue and wouldn't have known if Rithle hadn't told him one time.

"No problems," he replied. They didn't get too much Khajiit back home, and the few times they did - the caravan would pass quickly without trouble. There was no particular reason to like or dislike. It wasn't like he had a choice anyway - he did not want to find himself on the wrong end of the cat's bow. "I'm actually quite impressed with your eyesight," he said in awe. "Can all Khajiit see as well in the dark as you do?"

"Enough chit chat - werewolves, remember?" she cut in, punching him lightly on the shoulder. Rithle hopped a few times on her toes, swinging her axe-arm as if to warm it up.

"Frankly, I don't care if our soul gems are all you need - we're going to help you," she told the Khajiit carelessly. "That xivilai is the most exciting thing I've fought in a long time, and I've been killing the same, silly things for the last couple of days."

Turning fully to her, she flashed that same grin she had worn in battle, a sort of feral thing.

"I think a werewolf would be a great change of pace." Her gaze swung over to her brother. "Right, Nistac?"