1~ Sardin 's tattered attire are gathered in a calming breeze as it sweeps in fron the coast of

Cenril far in the east, it's journey gathering the scent of flora to fill the nostrils of the avian as an
inhale is permitted. His lungs expand in the calm before the upcoming confrontation, much like
the moment of peace before awaking a sleeping giant. His right arm weaves into a single fold
within the ragged garments bound to his finely chiseled framework producing a single dagger
amidst their voyage. It's rusty and chiseled existance posing little threat beneath the pale glow
cast down from the moon on in the star blotted sky. Beginning in his eyes, a serene look washes
over his facade veiling every aspect of decency and aspect of humanity from existance, much as
his sordid goddess would prefer. His horridly distorted vissage at last revealed to the world he
had come to loath so much; the ivory hue of fangs protruding from an orifice with tender lips
eaten away by a previous string in his life's story. Sardin's feet glide across the foot worn path, as
orbs holding a shade wrought forth from the depths of hell fixate upon the dwarven form... His
prey. Thoughts begin to formulate within his vile cranium, summoned forth by Cire's wishes as
his stance shifts into one far more suitable for combat. His arm retracts towards his torso,
remaining posed for a brief moment, sinew tensing momentarily before lashing forward to propel
the dagger towards his adversary. A simple incantation begins spills forth from the melodic vocal
chords as his dagger finds a path through the air seeking to taste deeply of Virros' flesh. Upon the
height of his spell, the dagger shatters mid flight into a multitude of shards to shower down upon
Virros with little relent. The very purpose of the dwoemer placed upon the tool meant to shred
flesh from bone.
1~Virros views the plain dagger with little regard, until the magic causes the blade to burst. The
dwarf widens his emerald eyes, as the spellblade sends a malicious rain storm of iron shards and
fragments in his direction. Now fearing for his safety, the practical paladin pulls his alabaster
shield toward the front of his body, but is too late to deflect the majority of the blows. Splinters
of glinting metal crash into his heavily armored form, battering the immaculate platemail with a
slew of resounding clangs, as a few fragments puncture the rare areas that are uncovered. Deep
crimson blood begins pumping out of these sparse wounds, some of his midsection, others
adorning shoulders. Grimacing from the pain, Virros drops his right hand down to clasp his
fingers about the icy hilt of Daybreak. With a tight grip and a tug, he pulls the golden sword out
of its ornate scabbard, enveloping the room with a lingering hiss. Keeping the gleaming tip
pointed downward, the dwarf thrusts the brand into the well trodden earth before his, causing a
brief flurry of dust to erupt. This gesture brings forth a near-blinding light, and as your vision
clears, an enormous wall of brightly glowing white luminosity appears, and Virros pulls the
blade back up into attacking posture. Retracting the weapon back to his ear, the paladin feels the
warmth of the blade radiating off, and with a mighty thrust, he stabs out at Sardin. Commanded
by this final gesture, the wall of plasma is sent roaring at the vampire, speeding toward its
undead victim, intending to smite the evil it embodies.

2~Sardin 's right appendage drapes over his torso with anticipation as the smokesceen is
summoned forth from Virros'action. Slender pallid digits left to graze the studded-leather sheath
of 'Cyclonic Rage' at his side idly. As the grain settles back towards the earth the members
protruding from his palm wrap around the hilt of his brand tearing it from it's slumber with a
rivaling hiss bearing his own resentment towards the living in a course sending the bastard sword
airborne before him. Following in suit, Sardin begins to close the meager distance between he
and his prey. Each bounding foot step thundering in his wake setting a pace to as the battle draws
on, much as a war drum would on the field of combat. The divine light conjured refract off of
crimson cornea as the tendons within his legs tense and spring forth. As though ordained by his
goddess, the servant of Cire permits the raven appendages sprouting from his spine to snap open
with a mighty flap to bring him free from harms way, though escapes not completely unscathed
as the beam seers through his calf muscle mid ascent sealing the wound completely and tearing
through his leggings. What a malignant epitaph Sardin seemed at that moment as his arm
extended to take grasp of the bastard sword in it's descent, snatching it from it's destined
position. The avian finds new footing upon the shackles of the tavern in a hindered sprint across
the rooftop due to his recent injury, however a second spel begins to weave into existance off his
tongue in a melodic stream, each of the archaic syllables accented as he gyrates upon his right
heel releasing a blade of compacted air to be cast forth from the razor edge of 'Cyclonic Rage'.
It's target being the abdomen of the dwarf beneath him leaving a meign of raven locks to whip
about his controted countanence. The zephyr sharing with the rhythm and song of combat issuing
a whistle in it's attempt to sever Virros in half.

2~Virros watches through the iron slits of his face mask with viridian hued eyes, as the massive
avain bounds toward his position. Raising his blessed defender in response to the approach, the
dreading dwarf sees the wind sickle race toward him. Not nimble enough to dodge in a
conventional sense, the stout figure falls to the ground with a crash of armor on dusty earth, and
the wind soars past. Virros looks back at the wind to find that his shield has been ripped out of
his gloved palm and thrown far beyond his reach. Cursing his slightly more vulnerable situation,
the prudent paladin places his left gauntleted paw just below the other on the jeweled hilt of his
sacred sword. Slowly lifting it up above his head, with a twinge of pain, he develops a plan of
attack in his mind. “First a light slash downward, a feint jab to the midsection, followed by a
mighty stab upward through the unprotected neck of the vampiric assailant.” Advancing the few
steps between the two fows with slight trepidation, the dwarf musters up his vigor and unleashes
his strike upon his unarmored opponent. Daybreak soars violently through the air, hoping to rip
the thing to shreds, or at the very least, pin it against the tavern wall.

3~Sardin dives off the roof top wings narrowing in a slight descent towards the soil before
thrusting outwards catching the wind in the pockets of his wings allowing him to glide elegantly
with an intense alacrity from his perch. 'Cyclonic Rage' leading the way; it's vile tip seeking
much as his dagger, to taste of the paladin's vitae. A mere spears width from the oncoming dwarf
Sardin's feet catch the ground in a limping sprint, the salicious servant holding a mindset of
desolation for Virros. His blade following in sync with his every move, a dance being composed
upon the light and trained placement of his feet. The wielded bastard sword dipping inwards
connecting with 'Daybreak' releasing a metallic ring within the makeshift arena, his mind
percieving the oncoming attack before it completely plunges through his chest as his own brand
rises in a full circuit seeking to render the attack useless. However 'Daybreak' taste slightly of his
own flesh tracing a fairly deep wound across his torso lining it's tip with a sanguine fluid, leaving
his course blood dripping down his chest. A pirouette is then composed as his deadly dance
ensues, his sword diving for another lethal swing to tear Virro's head from it's perch upon his
shoulders, leaving a grunt coming forth from Sardin as his breath becomes heavier and harder to
comeby. Sweat beads upon his brow slowly tracing a line down his facade. Before the manuever
is completed however, Sardin kicks back on his good foot hoping to at least knick a simple
wound upon the sturdy adversary and bring pleasure to she whom he served... For that was all
that mattered within the depths of his mind.

3~Virros , with only his bloodied blade to defend himself, is taken back a bit as the sword of his
adversary is swung at his neck. To parry this, he wildly retracts Daybreak upright, in front of his
flesh, but curses as he is too slow to repel the entire blow. The cold steel of the blade inserts itself
into the flesh of the side of Virros’ neck, and a large amount of blood pours out of the wound.
Soaking the top of his armor, his now bloody breastplate warns the dwarf that he needs a bit of
help to defeat this avain foe. With a whistle, he summons his own winged companion, Giuseppe,
who swoops into view from behind the pinewood tavern. Rounding the paladin’s rotund figure,
the brightly yellow-scaled wyvern soars into the air and descends furiously upon the vampire.
Taking his attention off his pet, Virros resheathes his aureate blade quicklyand deftly, releases
little more than a wisp of resonance. Continuing his fluent motion, he reaches to his belt and
unclasps a jeweled dagger with a snap. Grasping the hilt of the small blade, the dwarf lifts the
weapon up into the sky and hurls it forward with all his remaining strength. The shining blade
hurtles through the wind, tumbling over and over itself, its arced trajectory leading it on course
into the vulnerable head of the gigantic avian. With talons and momentum aimed for the same
target, Giuseppe nears the villain, ready to tear the vampire’s face asunder with its mighty claws.
f~Sardin notes the velocity of which his oncoming confrontation is to take place, catching a
glimps of the jeweled dagger produced in his peripherals, the adrenaline pumping through his
veins providing little security in the situation. However time was of the essence, to any onlooker,
the upcoming events would be played as normal, however everything seemed suspended in time
for an instance as his thought patterns sorted out a possibility of survival. Ushering forth yet
another arcane spell from his maw, Sardin's arm is thrust towards the incoming projectile sending
a funnel of air towards the dagger, reversing it's direction to find naught but the silt of the
trodden soil. The open palm of his hand finds it's way onto the hilt of 'Cyclonic Rage' funneling
the duration of the spell out of it's tip. As a last resort, his own brand finds it's destination his
own abdomen. A brief bite of pain finds it's way into his stomach sending waves of agony
flooding through his tenerbrous, and torn silhouette. However the summoned magic propels the
caster away from the inevitable maw, and relentless claws of Giuseppe. 'Cyclonic Rage' finds it's
self relinquished from it's weilders grasp sending a simple cloud of dust airborne with it's contact
with solid ground; Sardin barely at the brink of conciousness as he gathers and steadies his
breaths recomposing himself to lock his ruby orbs upon the form of Virros saved by his loyal pet.

Virros won~ barely.

Virros struggles over toward Sardin, holding back the spurting blood from his neck wound in one
hand, and redraws Daybreak quickly with the other. Raising the blade to the sky, the tip glints
just a bit before he slashes it through the tender neck of the avian villian. As the headless body
collapses to the ground, Virros begins sawing off the wings of the corpse, and when finished
tosses one of the large feathered appendages to Kasyr. Motioning to him to finish the job, the
dwarf plucks a delicate feather from the wing and hands it to the onlooking Caedan. "This is for
you," he says to her, as he wearily falls onto his knees.
Demont vanished before your eyes, perhaps never to be seen again.
Caedan collects that feather, and stands, rather dumbly. A lone muscle in her jaw twitches, and
but for that single gesture, there is no movement.
Virros furrows his brow and asks the teen, "Is something wrong? Should I not save this?" He
holds up the wing.
You slid from his position on the wall, the gentle rustle of his trenchcoat the sole audible
hint of his approach, footsteps muted by the evening breeze...or something well and akin to
such a zephyr. The tiefling's movements brought him to a point of standing over the
decapitated carcass, a lack of attention granted to the paladins 'gift' for the moment, as the
more pressing matter at hand is attended to. A deep intake of breath follows, before his
gloved left hand slides over towards the chest of the man, a tentative creak of leather
sounding off as fingers wriggle in anticipation to the following event, that being the sudden
and abrupt press of a palm through flesh, muscle and bone. A spew of blood and gore
accompanied by the unpleasent serenade of gurgling fluids is sounded off, before a faint
amber hue forms about the inquistive digits which lurked within Sardins husk, up until
they seemed to grasp onto something, that very thing being the manifestation of the avians
soul. Little respect is that spiritual representation of the self granted, ignobly lifted from
the now empty shell to be quite literally consumed by the tiefling </fin>
Caedan wrinkles her nose, lips pursing in a sullen moue for a moment. The feather now gripped
in a white-knuckled fist is forsaken, left to gently waft to the ground as she reaches out, fingers
coursing through the ebon plummage of the severed wing. "He was not the one who stole mine,"
the troubled teen remarks cryptically.
Virros brings himself back to his feet, and goes to console his friend, Kasyr. He places a hand on
his shoulder and says, "Thank you, my friend. That is not the sort of enemy I need coming back
for me."
Asteria slowly gets to her feet, eyes averted from the happenings as her stomach lurches. Turning
her back to the dismemberment at hand, she removes her face plating, and clamps a hand over
her mouth as she fights to keep the contents in her belly from spilling forth.

You eyes immediately narrowed, the hand that had been brought to his mouth swiping out
in brutal retaliation for the unwanted touch "...You just wanted me hear to ensure your
peace of mind...laisse moi...I need to go" That said, the tiefling wiped the sanguine stained
glove upon his trenchcoat and moved to swiftly depart, a shroud of dire feelings left in his