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[Graded]Its all just a Masquerade; Halloween thread 2015
Topic Started: Oct 6 2015, 05:07 AM (579 Views)
Inara Serra
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Honesty without tact is cruelty.

The voice that answered her soft but vehement exclamation was not Sophie's. It was, instead, one she knew from earlier. Her dance partner no less. What was this guy doing? Stalking both her and Sophie? Did he know why they were there? Was he another one like their host? Snow turned on her heel, trying hard to think of a quick and easy way put of this. She'd gotten better at lying in the last year. With her expressions, with her words, with her body. For some reason, however, this one time nothing at all came to mind. Not even an absurd lie. She sighed, seeing that she had perhaps frightened the poor man away. Ah well. Not like she expected to ever see him again. Which left only a couple of issues.

She moved in close as he was backing away. It looked like nothing so much to anyone who might be watching as the stance a blushing girl would take when aiming for a kiss or an embrace. She made sure to keep her face that way. Not that it was hard, considering how close she had to be to him for this to work. "I'm sure you're at least slightly confused right now. But, suffice to say, my hunt serves the greater good. You're safe from me, so long as you aren't one of them. And if you're not, I'd consider forgoing the free food and drink, in honor of not becoming a main course." She released him promptly after this proclamation, all spoken in a soft purr. She moved away from him without a second thought, looking for Sophie.

Who, it turned out, was standing just on the landing, attempting to smile at Snow. "Honestly woman..." Sophie said as she gripped Snow's arm hard enough to make her wince. "You don't have to charm the pants off of every guy I want to bed." Snow looked confused. Yet again. "I've never charmed anyone's pants off. I don't want to see anyone pantsless. Thanks anyway." Sophie's grip slackened only slightly.

She wanted to rave about Ranth, but she couldn't. Not with any amount of satisfaction anyway. Sophie just had to bite her tongue and slightly slacken her grip again until she wasn't hurting Snow's arm anymore. "So why the hell were you in kissing distance?" Snow explained the situation, and why she had felt that it was best if she played this part, even if only for a small span of time. Sophie, at the end, rolled her eyes. "Whatever. That's fine. Now. What's our game plan?"

Snow looked around the room. She had a very vague idea, based on the way the throat had been torn out, of what this might be. There were few enough options. She didn't want to hazard a guess without more concrete proof though. "I think we were on our way to the back room, right?"
Edited by Inara Serra, Oct 13 2015, 11:42 PM.
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Fafnir Rakesh
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Sarcasm. Because beating the shit out of people is illegal.

Ah, she told him so much by telling him so little. He maintained his meekness as she did her best to stare him down- an impressive effort given their height disparity- and simultaneously warn and threaten him with the same breath. It was all he could do just to keep the excitement from gleaming in his eyes and his eager grin from playing on his lips as he drank in her words and set his mind to pilfering them for information through speculation.

He didn't know who or what he was, but what he did know was that he was a being that defied conventional logic and spat in the face of convention of any sort for that matter. He didn't know if that his nature driven by instinct or by experiences long forgotten, but he did know that maintaining a low profile for now was the most sensible approach. No matter how badly he wanted to sink his teeth into whatever devious mystery was at work here.

"Well that sounds entirely too scary for one such as myself", he found himself saying as Snow finally ceased her pursuit and he watched her go through a seamless mask of nervous uncertainty as she finally turned and left along with her partner. Only then did he turn his mind to what he could glean from what he'd been told without being told. Snow- and presumably Sophie by extension- were clearly here for more than a night of casual dancing and political networking. They had come here- or been sent here- because someone knew something was amiss and that had been proven beyond all doubt by the impressively covered up death.

It seemed clear that the host of this charade was behind this, but Snow had spoken of 'them' and that meant there were more conspirators in this game than just the host himself. It also explained why they had yet to make a move against him. he found himself impressed both by the evidence of thought that the women were putting into this 'hunt' of theirs, but also in his ability to assess the situation and arrive at these conclusions.

So then the players of this game of death were set, with the opening move made by the host. Of course, as far as anyone else knew there was only two other players to account for- that being the two women. But there was a fourth player on the field whose alignment was as ambiguous as his motives for playing and that player decided that now would be the perfect opportunity to shake things up for everyone involved.

Approaching the dinner table, he picked up an ornate silver knife and inspected it for a moment before setting it back down again. Or at least, that was how it appeared to the casual observer. For in actuality the knife was now resting against the inside of his right sleeve as he moved through the crowd with idle disinterest. One murder, more than likely planned by the host along with the cover story that had gone with it. Conventional wisdom dictated that a second or perhaps even a third victim would be required before a pattern emerged to point to the guilty parties motives and incriminate them.

His personal wisdom however told him that the best way to proceed was to stray from the rules of the game entirely and see what emerged from the ensuing chaos. So as he neared the center of the crowded dance floor, he came to a momentary standstill as he chose his target and then in a momentary flash of movement the knife left its hiding place and tore open the throat of a middle aged man even as he danced away with a pretty young thing.

He died before he hit the ground and at first nobody knew what had happened. Not until they saw the blood. So much blood. Nobody had seen what had happened. By the time the crowd had parted to make a ring around the corpse, the culprit for this particular victim was watching with a hundred others from the second floor. The knife he'd used disposed of and not a speck of blood on him to suggest he'd had anything to do with it. Now he wondered what the host would have to say about this, he wondered with an inward smirk.



Edited by Fafnir Rakesh, Oct 14 2015, 12:26 AM.
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Inara Serra
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Honesty without tact is cruelty.

Snow huffed as yet more screams errupted from the direction of the dance floor. Above, she could see the host looking down from the balcony, at first wide eyed, but shortly after squinting below. Something had not gone according to plan. Not in the slightest. Snow was intrigued by this, but far more-so by the prospect of what lay in the room behind the giant wooden doors. She sighed, glancing at Sophie. "You go back, I go in?"

Sophie hesitated. Something was most definitely off. She couldn't put her finger on it though. The thoughts of this room in general were appealing yes, but she didn't understand why people kept dying just before they reached it. "I'm not sure splitting up is the best plan. We're still unsure of so many variables. What if something goes wrong, on either end, and neither of us has the other to rely on?"

While the point Soph was making was wholly valid, and even though Snow understood that she was, on some level, worried about Snow's own rather iffy health, she was scanning the crowded room. "Its a risk we have to take. If we don't split up now, we may never get to the bottom of this. Besides that, you're a member of one of the most feared and renowned guilds in the history of Fiore. Surely that's not for nothing." Snow had learned a long time ago that the woman was too proud to allow doubt of her skills to be entertained, however briefly. It made for a fabulous manipulation tool when necessary.

Snow quirked a dark brow at her friend in challenge. The now characteristic sound of Sophie's hand-fan snapping shut in indignation was her answer. "I'm giving you half an hour. If you're not out to make a report by then, I'm coming in." With that Sophie turned back toward the scene of the newest grizzly crime while Snow pushed open the door at last and started inside.

Behind her heavy oak closed seamlessly and soundlessly, shutting out all light in the long corridor which presented itself. Snow soon figured out that this part of the manor, despite the low lighting, was more dilapidated than the rest. She thought for a moment it might only be a gag, something used on Halloween to frighten would be guests. The scent of dust and decay which could not be faked was a tell-tale sign that it was indeed real though.

She was, at the least back in her element. She was hunting, silently and swiftly, everything about her deadly. Her ears were pricked for any sounds which were not made by herself, and her eyes scanned back and forth nearly constantly. She hoped Sophie would be having some luck in the ballroom, but she herself was at least content to be on the trail of whatever this was.

It was with no small amount of surprise that she noted portraits beginning to appear on the walls. Lots of old manor homes had these. Nobility prided themselves on nothing so much as their lineage. But what was surprising was the face in each of them..not just a close resemblance, but an identical face each and every time. Even more surprising, it was not the face of their host.

She had stopped for mere seconds to consider this, when an arm reached out from the darkness, pulling her away, silently and swiftly.
Edited by Inara Serra, Oct 14 2015, 01:12 AM.
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Fafnir Rakesh
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Sarcasm. Because beating the shit out of people is illegal.

Anarchy, that is what it was. Sheer and total chaos erupted like a mushroom cloud starting at the corpse and then the shockwave of reality swept the crowd on every floor and both He and the host both knew that there would be no way to brush this one under the rug. From his vantage, he could see the host and recognised the guise of both vexation and fear. Vexation was obvious, because whatever scheme he'd been in the process of hatching had just gone horribly awry. But fear? That was both unexpected and intriguing.

Damn it all, this wasn't what he'd been promised. This wasn't what was meant to happen! The host, better known by those in his circle as Duke Trump, President of the United Statues Association has been furious upon realising there had been another death. They had promised to keep the casualties to a minimum in exchange for preparing the perfect stage for their... peculiar feeding habits. He hadn't liked it, but when the lives of his friends and family hung in the balance then he'd been left with little choice. Blood was thicker than wine after all.

But now... now he didn't know what was going to happen. Was everything a lie? Was his wife and daughter already dead? Was everyone- including himself- destined to perish here, drained of blood and soul? His head spun, the crowd's panic would reach him soon if he didn't move. They were demanding answers that he couldn't give. That he dared not give. His knees buckled and he nearly collapsed right there, but he forced himself to stay strong, if only for a while. Until he knew the fate of his family.

So Trump did the only thing he could. He ran. He was terrified, but he would find answers. he would demand answers from the ones who he knew were to be held accountable. He also knew that in the end, he was powerless to stop them. That was why he'd tried to bargain with them, but now all could see how well that had turned out. One couldn't strike a deal with the devil without losing everything after all it seemed.

Disappearing into a hidden passage amidst the turmoil of the crowd, Trump was gone before anyone he'd moved from his podium. Nobody, that was, save for the pair of eyes that had tracked his every move across the room. A pair of eyes that burned with curiosity at what they saw and then the owner of those eyes began to move. Snow wasn't the only one on the hunt now, but little did he know just how right he was. The hunt had most certainly begun.
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Inara Serra
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Honesty without tact is cruelty.

It was some time later when Snow awoke. Far past her 30 allotted minutes. Soph was frantically searching an empty and run down corridor for Snow, while out in the ballroom things went crazy. Snow's first sensation was one of her head hurting. Someone had hit her, while she was working out something...She had been staring at...Portraits. Portraits of the same, identical person, all in a line. Her second sensation was of being slightly cold. This was partially from blood loss, and partially from having the lower half of her skirt ripped away up to her thighs. She had on some rather nice stockings of course, but they didn't exactly keep out cold.

She could hear, before she even bothered to open her eyes, some men speaking outside. They were using low voices, all of which seemed to hiss one to another, as though their mouths were mishappen. It took some serious concentration, but she worked out a fair bit of it at last. "She's not one of the regular guests. She's here after us." Well at least they weren't completely stupid, she thought wrly. She was indeed here for them. And she was still going to get them.

For they had made yet another mistake. While they had ripped away a decent part of her skirt, and the top of her dress as well, likely in the failed hunt for weaponry, they had left her hair mostly alone. Sophie, being the darling girl she was, had used something quite simple to put Snow's curls up in the end. A few simple pins. Snow removed one of these now, finding her arm was held up high by some of those stereotypically creepy wall shackles favored by dungeon enthusiasts. The bright side about these was the exceptionally simple locking mechanisms which went with them. Even she, veritable novice by her guild's standards, could pick them. And she did.

Not to mention, she was really in no mood to stay in some place so dark and yucky. She soon found herself lying on the floor, having had the sense to hold onto the chains themselves to make her fall easier, and more silent. Sometime, she would have to thank Artorius for all his teachings. He really was handy to have around. Even after she lowered herself, however, she still had to look for a way out. Soon enough she spied an ugly little grate in the wall. It was likely a part of an old heating system, as rusted as it was.

The voices outside continued to argue over her fate. Something about a blood ritual, and then making her one of them. Nah. She thought. She had enough problems without becoming what they were. The only useful bit of information she had gleaned from this conversation, as she pried at the grate, was that there were at least 20 of them. And they intended to lock the doors to the manor in short order, before many more could escape. As she crawled through the opening behind the grate, and then slid it back into place the conversations stopped. She was already moving, long before anyone thought to check on her.

A lesser woman would have succumbed to blood loss. Which would have put her out for a few hours, instead of the 45 ish minutes which Snow had slept for. She pushed as far as she could, looking for any indication this was the correct way to get her out of here. Back to the guest's at least. Somehow warn them. Then start fighting off these stupid creatures.

That was the plan anyway. When she saw light, she headed straight for it, maneuvering so she could open up the next grate. It turned out to be exceptionally easy, this one having been cared for more recently. Of course, it was just her luck that as she emerged, there stood the host of the show, pale as a sheet and fervently glancing behind him. So much so, that he didn't notice Snow til she had his throat in an iron grip. "I mean honestly. Where the fuck do you think you're going?"
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Fafnir Rakesh
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Sarcasm. Because beating the shit out of people is illegal.

He'd made it halfway across the room when the impossible happened. The chaos around him descended to an all new level of anarchy. Without his vantage point it was nigh impossible to determine what had happened at first, there was just a general explosion of noise. An explosion caused by a combination of shouts, screams and the sound of breaking glasses and clattering serving trays. The host's accomplices had made themselves known, the rooms exits were sealed and everyone trapped inside was on the menu as over a dozen individuals began attacking in different locations.

They moved with superhuman speed and strength, but beyond that they looked human judging by all outward appearances... until they opened their mouths. These dozen men and women were possessed of incredibly pronounced canines and their eyes glowed with a fiery red colour that looked like the embers of hell itself. Climbing up on the host's former podium He was finally able to get an idea of what was happening and it wasn't good. Dozens lay dead or dying whilst the others fled in a mad stampede- though to where he wasn't sure, as there was nowhere to flee to. Dozens were crushed under the feet of their fellows and for naught, because there was no way out of the room except in a body bag.

But rather than feeling panicked, He was grinning from ear to ear as he surveyed the carnage that was erupting all around him. Would this have happened if he hadn't interfered with the game? There was no way of knowing and just the thought that he had caused this created a feeling of euphoria. Their lives were in his hands in a manner of speaking, but rather than seeing it as any sort of duty or privilege or even obligation, instead it was merely a burden.

He had wanted to follow the host, but now he was delayed because of these foolish people and the monsters that hunted them down like cattle for sport. The only silver lining, he supposed, was that they looked to be of higher caliber than any opponent he'd managed to track down so far. In his ongoing quest to discover both his limits and his place in the food chain of this world, they were but the next measuring stick for him to stand beside.

* * * * *
The Host waited in the room where he'd met the Lord on each prior occasion. It terrified him to share his home with these beasts, but he'd had no choice. That was what he kept telling himself in his mind as he waited in the darkness for his benefactor and tyrant to show himself and explain to him what he feared he already knew.

Which was why when something seized him by the throat he assumed that this was it. The Lord had come and was going to take his life blood without even giving him closure. Which is why he was at once absurdly shocked and then incredibly relieved when it was a woman's voice who spoke and then a familiar face placed itself close to his and he could only cackle, half mad with relief. There was still a chance. Still a chance for him and his family. The guests were probably doomed, but he couldn't help that. He'd only done what he had to for those he loved most.

"You shouldn't have come here", he croaked thanks to the tight squeeze the woman had on his neck. It was unclear whether he meant to his home or to this place, but both were equally applicable. "You might think me a monster for what I've done, but what would you have done if you'd been threatened with all you held dear? Fight? Against an opponent you couldn't hope to match?" He might have been talking to Snow, or he might have been talking to himself, the ramblings of a man half mad with terror. Terror at losing his family, terror at losing his life. Terror at losing everything... even his very soul.
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Inara Serra
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Honesty without tact is cruelty.

The mad laughter wasn't exactly unexpected. The pain that seared through her brain at his words was. Could she just not have this issue right this second? The timing was shit. "The balance is all that matters." she said coolly, despite her head burning like someone had stabbed her between the eyes. This little montra, an old and much repeated one of her's, seemed to calm her somehow. She tightened her grip on the madman's throat. "Who were you expecting? It clearly wasn't me." The man cackled again, lost in his madness.

She knew she would be getting no answers from him, and as the screams filtered through the walls she suddenly didn't care. She smashed her forehead into his nose, having bodily heaved him off the ground by his throat. He fell unconscious almost immediately, and Snow sought the exit. She found a lever, and pulled, finding herself suddenly in a new and different tunnel. Her heart beat fast, her eyes searching out any way this might lead her where she wanted to go.

She ran, not at full speed yet, but close, at last throwing herself against what felt like a dead end. She cursed aloud, hearing the screams of the dying just beyond. She didn't know if Soph had made it in to rescue her yet or not, nor did she know if she was going to be able to make it out in time to save anyone. She needed to hurry and it didn't seem like she was having any luck against the wall she had reached. She had been running into it over and over again, her eyes in the darkness slowly gaining the golden yellow tint which meant trouble for whoever was in her way when she did make it out.

She leaned against the wall after a full minute of trying to push it open. What the hell kind of mansion was this anyway? She couldn't even open the end of the secret passageway. And behind her, she could now hear sounds. Not pleasant sounds. As she leaned back, however, the wall began to move, dumping her unceremoniously onto the floor of the third balcony.

On a podium stood a familiar figure. She cocked her head to the side, wondering why she hadn't considered a pressure plate as the trigger to the wall. She looked at the man, not taking part in the carnage below, but not moving to stop it either. She growled, low and deep, and moved up behind him to see what was going on below. She would have, at any other time, simply attacked him. But he seemed to be neutral to all of this. Neither a part of it, nor a fixer of it. "Too dangerous hmm?" It was scathing in the amount of condescension in the simple tone.

She didn't care. People were dying, or half dead already. A dozen creatures were attacking people en masse as the doors were sealed. Some survivors huddled together in corners, trying to shelter the old, or the females from attack. Snow snarled once, and then she was gone. In her place stood the white wolf which was her other self.

She howled once, a long blood chilling sort of howl which caught the attention of many of the creatures, giving them pause from their ongoing feast. They were vampires, the natural enemy of werewolves. Not that she was one. But it was nice to smell a different sort of fear in the air. At the same time, there came 8 of her shadow clones. She gave her command as she picked out each creature.

"Tear. Rend. Kill."

Then as one her pack and herself moved in for the attack, while centuries old beings found themselves fearing for their lives for once. Snow would take an insane amount of pleasure from killing them all. One. By. One.
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Fafnir Rakesh
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Sarcasm. Because beating the shit out of people is illegal.

It was crowded down below. Far too crowded for him to consider joining the fray. Although really, could it even be called such? A fray at least implied a fight and what he was witnessing was no fight, it was a slaughter. Not a single man or woman down below possessed a weapon with which they could defend themselves and even the handful who possessed any kind of combat experience were any combination of drunk, inexperienced, terrified or dead already at the hands (and fangs) of the vampires that fell upon them in a frenzy.

Indeed, if he were to go down there right now then there would be far too many people in the way and that would slow him down. As yet he wasn't sure if such a handicap would be a true detriment to his chances of winning or simply a hindrance that would make the inevitable just that little more tiresome. It was a shame that he'd come to such a pessimistic view of the strength of those he encountered. It was also something he hoped that would cease to be the norm for him lest he become accustomed to stepping on bugs on a regular basis and bore himself to death.

Deciding that when the crowd had been thinned some more then he would venture down below, he watched in a leisurely fashion as he leaned against the third floor balcony railing. It was at that point that he became aware of a muted vibration beneath his feet and a dull thumping sound coming from behind him. Turning to see what the cause of this phenomenon was, he was just in time to see Snow appear from a formerly hidden passage in the wall and they regarded each other blankly for a moment before she broke the silence with a look of disgust and chastisement to match.

Honestly, he didn't know why he'd earned any ire from her. He wasn't hurting anyone and for all he knew he was just as helpless as the rest of them. or even if he wasn't entirely helpless, these were far from ordinary foes and even the most powerful knight of the regular Fioran army would be hard pressed to fight one on even terms. Perhaps she simply expected the best of everyone she met, regardless of their actual ability. How moronic, there was no other way to describe it surely.

He might have said something to correct her in other circumstances, but one look at those eyes of hers told him all he needed to know. She was a zealot of sorts, pursuing whatever she believed to be the correct course of action with dogmatic single mindedness. So he said nothing and simply returned her gaze in silence until she stepped past him in disgust and morphed from human into an animal. This was a most interesting development indeed and as she leaped down three floors in a single bound, she was flanked by eight shadowy apparitions that split off towards eight of the dozen vampires that occupied the ground floor.

Now this ought to be quite the spectacle indeed he thought to himself as he returned to his leisurely pose and continued to watch with a faint grin of amusement. Like a child at the zoo watching the animals do whatever it was animals at the zoo were meant to do.
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Inara Serra
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Honesty without tact is cruelty.

Snow forgot the man from before almost as soon as she turned. She had no reason to consider him again. Anyone who could watch this with the sort of impassivity he possessed was not someone she felt the need to trifle with. Besides, she was busy. Very preoccupied at that moment with the rending of flesh, and the satisfying sounds of death being delivered to those who deserved it. It had to be said, if it were a show the man above wanted, he was getting it.

Not a single vampire came at them in tandem, choosing instead to attack one wolf at a time. Those who went for the shades of Snow herself were not as satisfied in their fight as those who chose the wolf herself. While her clones could attack as any normal dog would do, they couldn't actually do anything else which was specialized to Snow herself. Such as her moonbeam, where the lives of three vampires standing too close together were lost when the one in the center caught fire.

This, she decided was nearly too easy. The people who were as yet alive were too stunned to cheer her on. But they knew, somehow, that this would be their only form of salvation, if they were to have one. It was a quick thing. Almost too quick for Snow's liking. She looked around and half her pack was decimated, while the other half had fulfilled her orders gorgeously, and were continuing to attempt to continue to do so. She could have mentally patted them for their service, but it wasn't time. Not yet anyway.

Soon only 2 vampires were left on the ballroom floor, and these too were sent to the bowels of hell with little to no fuss. It felt like a bit of a hollow victory if she were being honest. None of the professed others even showed their faces. At least. None of the other minions. She had already turned, and was opening a door, not paying attention to her nakedness, or the blood that matted her hair, and covered pale skin as she did so.

The people who were left began to stragle out in slow lines, still in shock. The knights would have to be called in of course, and there would still be the matter of finding Soph. And maybe getting cleaned up. She didn't pay attention as she walked back up the stairs two at a time, to the fact that she was licking blood from her hands and arms. She had the sense to grab a random table cloth and drape it around herself, tying a knot in the front, before the made the third landing. It was as she reached to retrieve her blades that it happened.

She felt it before she saw it of course; a sudden chill which raised the the back of her neck. "Run!" She yelled down to the survivors, but it was too late. Only a handful had made it out, and now the open door was magically sealed. Nothing would open it short of...

The panel in the wall through which she had come began to open again. Through it stepped a dark man, coveres and cloaked. Blood, new, dripped down his forearm. He had found their host no doubt, and brought an end to the madness that had plagued him. Though whether it was quick or not was anyone's guess. Below, on the floor, those who had not been fully drained of blood began to rise again.

Snow, facing the new foe, with whatshisfacekindofuseless behind her couldn't help but be annoyed. "For fucks sake. Could you things please just die. And stay dead. Six feet under. Please?" She had her hands on her swords already, and both of them out. Her dagger, small but sharp, she tossed in the direction of her former dance partner. "Defend yourself if I fail."

Then she faced the man who had occupied all of the portraits in the long hallway. "Come now...Wouldn't you rather be my sweet virgin sacrifice for the night? To fight me is use less."

Eyeroll please. "No thanks. To all of that. You're pretty old for my liking. Sorry." Oh yes, she was chipper, even making jokes. After all, this, killing things, didn't make her head hurt. That was such a bonus.
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Fafnir Rakesh
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Sarcasm. Because beating the shit out of people is illegal.

Though it was probably too soon to start throwing around words like 'never', but he'd never seen anything quite like what was happening below as Snow did battle in beat form against vampires who had made minced meat of close to half the guests and more than held her own. Though it was made both more and less impressive by the sheer savagery with which she fought depending on how one looked at it. The guests were too terrified of the vampires to be picky about their savior.

When it was over he felt conflicted. On the one hand he hadn't had to lift a finger and still got his money's worth in terms of entertainment, but on the other he could feel boredom beginning to creep up on him already. It was like a hunger or an itch that demanded to be sated and he didn't mind that one little bit. Much like he didn't mind the appearance of Snow when she returned to his side covered in blood and wrapped in a bloodstained tablecloth that had been fashioned into a crude garment.

He watched her appreciatively as she stalked towards him, or more accurately, the stuff she'd left behind when she'd morphed. he might have taken that moment to comment on the... inefficiency of her transformation. Or to compliment her on her work, but suddenly she was on full alert once more and all hell broke loose as those that had been deemed dead began to rise, but with one major difference than to when they'd fallen... now they were playing for the other team.

Then the real star of the show appeared and he was left feeling distinctly out of place. Everyone else was covered in blood and he was completely spotless by comparison. The man who emerged wasn't the Host, but rather a well dressed man of indeterminable age with a dripping forearm that suggested someone had just died. Seeing that he wasn't the focus of the Lord's attention, he was content to lean back and watch as they exchanged niceties and then the unexpected happened. She threw him a dagger not in the hope that he would join her in battle, but rather so that he might defend himself if she died and the Lord's wrath turned upon him.

"Well, I do prefer the feisty ones", the Lord smiled, his calm demeanor remaining firmly in place as he surveyed the woman before him. "Much like your friend who I found looking for you in the back corridors", he added as an afterthought before raising his forearm and running his tongue along the blood that Snow was probably no longer so certain as to its origins or the fate of its source. He tilted his head as though listening to a sound only he could hear and then he laughed.

"Ah yes, there it is, I can hear your pulse quickening and your blood pumping. Human's are such simple creatures, it's almost too easy to provoke them", he sighed with a sad shake of his head. "Fret not though my dear, she isn't dead and if you don't wish to assist me with the nights proceedings then I'm sure that... other arrangements can be made... after I've bled you dry of course", he added with a sinister grin.

Reaching to his side, he pushed back his cape to reveal an ornate looking sword which he drew in one swift motion. "Now, why don't you show me how you fare against a real vampire".

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