Path of the Vampire forum

There was a brief moment when Az followed Amalea’s gaze, and took in the sight of Liz - who he had met a few times in the past. Town hall meeting. Halloween party. Humanity week. He also vaguely remembered her name. Someone associated with one of the initial incarnations of the Council perhaps? It had been years, and most of the details were honestly sketchy because of what a fiasco that had turned out to be. He had put time and distance between himself and the relative debacle which had been the fledgeling vampire community’s first attempts at creating a sense of order from chaos. But what drew the vampire’s attention was Doc’s shirt. His gaze narrowed some. What? He’d picked up on the two of them getting closer, but he hadn’t pressed, because he figured Lea would talk to him about it, if necessary, when she was ready.

But that was something for Future Az to be curious about. His curse took root in Amalea as soon as he cast it. The way she responded - without the harrowing agony that some might have felt, betrayed Amalea as more of a warrior than she let on, or as having a pain tolerance the likes of which would have put anyone to shame. Az knew first hand that having your blood poisoned hurt like a *****. And this was proved to him once again when Amalea decided that she was going to mirror his move back at him. The Mystic actually saw it coming, and tried to backstep as if he could dodge it. But all of a sudden, pain hit him like a hammer hitting a nail. He very nearly doubled over. Had he been human, he probably would have been bent over, emptying the contents of his guts onto the ground. As it was, blood bubbled up and trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Alright. So it was game on. He pressed closer, catching Amalea by her arm. His palms burned so hot that they seemed to glow, and she caught fire, the burns marring skin that otherwise would have been difficult to find flaw with. Of course, the burns themselves would disappear with time. But no sooner had he gripped her arm than he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye. He just barely saw the forming of dark shadows which seemed to coalesce and thicken before suddenly stabbing in his direction. He let go and dodged back a step, moving so quickly that he wasn’t even a blur. It looked as if he was there one second and on the other side of the arena the next.

Impressive. Amalea had the wherewithal to cast whilst in pain and being attacked. For a moment, he sized her up. Well. The last one had worked so well...why not give her a matching mark on the other arm? He ran towards her once more, his fingers burning like red iron, but he was met with what felt like a wall of pure energy. She had resisted his attack, and Az was legitimately taken aback for a moment. It was rare for anyone to have the kind of mystical knowledge required to work competently with the Mystic’s own. But he didn’t really have time to react because no sooner did she repel his spell than her foot was coming right for his face. His eyes widened.

CRACK!

“DID YOU JUST KICK ME IN THE HEAD?!” The tension broke for a single moment as he laughed, stumbling back. Blood raced down his face from a ruined nose and he stared at Lea with those reptilian eyes, a hand lifted as he held a hand up, one finger lifted skyward as if to say ‘pause!’ So he could get the laughter out of his system. The adrenaline and humor was enough to help him ignore the pain. “****. You’re amazing.” He said. And then he steadied himself. Okay. Back into fight mode.

He needed to start being smarter. The poison had been to try and wear Lea down more quickly. The fire had been to actually begin spilling her blood...but the vampire was getting nowhere fast if he didn’t get his head in the game. His first move was to cut Amalea off from her own powers, which would hopefully stop him from getting blindsided by those moving shadows and prevent her from being able to heal herself up mid-fight. Move two was defensive as well. Rather than pull a weapon, he instead focused his energy on restoring some of what he’d already lost.

But it seemed that forcing Lea’s hand was not the benefit Az had hoped it would be with the relic on his chest allowing him to essentially go briefly incorporeal for a few seconds at a time. A few seconds that he did not use well, as realized when he saw Amalea take aim and fire off a shot. He felt the bullet rip through his throat. Blood began to gush down his chest and back, over his arm. HIs hands were still sizzling bright and ready to brand someone, so he thought it best to make good use of them. He drew close, only to feel another bullet tear through his leg. He would have reached for his own gun, but that would have been dangerous with his hands in the state that they were, and he wasn’t about to waste the mystical energy. So when he finally found his mark, he glanced down to assess the damage.

Clean through the muscle.

He barely even registered it honestly. Too much was going on.

And while he was there, he figured he might as well take a crack at her marksmanship as well. His reserves were deep, and he could pull out a lot of magic, but even still, they were beginning to run low. He blinded her with his next spell, but it seemed that no sooner had he cast it, and she was on him, swinging wide with her blade, gun still in the other hand. He caught the sharp metal with his face and felt it tear through his slitted eye, giving it another gouge - this time one that was far less natural.

The vampire hissed in pain and he reeled back. ****. He was on the defensive again and he knew it. He needed some good old fashioned field medic magic, and when he fell back, he dropped a hand to the wound on his leg. It immediately began to repair itself, flesh stitching together. He couldn’t afford to be limping. Not when Amalea moved like a viper, striking relentlessly again and again and again. And losing half of his vision essentially put them right back on an even playing field with her as far as aim went, which indicated to Az that Amalea was very quick on her feet, fast to make up for any capacity of hers that was diminished and return in kind. He realized just how hard it was to take a shot with one eye when he squeezed off a round of bullets, all of which seemed to do absolutely nothing.

Thankfully, her own shots didn’t fair much better. And for a few golden seconds, the Mystic wondered if it was going to devolve into two blind people wildly firing bullets at each other like some sort of geriatric warzone.

And he was losing blood fast. Which meant that finding his way into an offensive position was going to be tricky. He decided to remain silent, and let his magic do its work, blood beginning to replenish in his system as he watched her draw near. He only broke from his spot at the last possible moment, racing right past the redhead, twisting as he did, so he could fire a shot into her back. That’s when things began to look up, because no sooner did he somersault through the air and land on his feet with some distance between them, than she was firing at him again. Even in the haze of impaired vision, he was able to twist his body out of the way just in time, the bullets colliding with the wall behind him and nearly ricocheting into the crowd.

Right. He was almost back to 100%. Just a little bit more time for his blood to replenish and he could make his move.

Of course, why would Amalea have given him that kind of time? He saw her drawing close again, and fired off a round which only seemed to graze her leg. Which. He felt was pretty good considering the situation. Except that her gun lifted and she pulled the trigger. It didn’t register at all what had happened at first. He looked down to try and find a wound on his body, but there wasn’t one. That was when redness flooded overy his only usable eye and he blinked rapidly. His hand lifted. There was a hole in his head. He could have sworn that hadn’t been there before. What a silly place to put a hole.

There was a gun in his hand. He stared at it for a moment. What was he do--oh right. Fighting. He tried to focus on his target. And for a few moments the two of them just exchanged bullets. Well. It was more like Az fired at her, and the bullets just barely touched her, and he took several. One blasted through his thigh. One ripped through his neck, this time smashing his voice box on the way out. He gurgled rather than screamed. The next one punched through his chest. His heart was cut in two by a bullet hole and he was slammed back *** first into the ground. He was dazed and their little gift exchange had almost certainly done Amalea more favors than him. So he tossed the gun to one side. The ******* thing was doing him no good. Time to use the sword. So he ripped it sheath and all from his belt. He used it to bring himself up to stand and then whipped the cold metal free of its scabbard.

He wobbled.

And then he ran at her. It was like he could feel his intelligence dripping out of him the way his blood did. He wanted to fight with more elegance. With more grace. Hard to do that blinded and half mad with brain damage. He was a child swinging his toy sword wildly. And he knew it.

And he suspected Amalea knew it. He hacked at her and she slid out of the way.

BLAM!

Another bullet to the head. Another hole where it didn’t belong. This time it was closer range so the metal didn’t bounce around inside of his skull. Instead, it tore through the barrier of his bones and exploded forcefully to shower the area behind him in gray and red. He faltered. He stumbled back. And then he was swinging again. This time, Lea lifted her arm to block and he was able to slice her cleanly. It was a good thing she’d gotten rid of that jacket before. Funny the things one focused on in that kind of situation.

He went to follow through on his strike, which took him a few steps past Amalea. Another bullet. This time it tore through his back. By this point the adrenaline was wearing off and the pain was beginning to set in. Part of the problem was that there were just so many damn wounds. What little he could see was faded around the edges, like his vision was going to begin to fail him. And all of the colors were wrong. Amalea’s hair was green, and her skin looked as if someone had painted it in a comic panel. Honestly, if it hadn’t been for Az’s survival instinct kicking in, he probably would have stopped the fight then and there and just wandered off, because he could have sworn he saw the sunlight dancing across the ground in the distance and he wanted to go lay in it for the first time in years. Something about that was...wrong. He couldn’t figure out exactly what though.

It was probably for the best that the higher functioning aspects of the Mystic’s mind were beginning to shut down, because it meant he could focus. Well. As much as possible. He whirled around to face her. Or he was pretty sure he was facing her. He could see a hazy shadow. His blade swung once more, but it never landed. There was that boom of the cannon in her hands once more. But no pain. The vampire winced anyway, and his blade moved instinctively in the direction the gunfire had come from. Nothing again. It was like she was made of nothing but mist and air. And he? He was very real.

His senses were failing him in more way than one, because he didn’t even hear it when the gun fired again and a bullet tore right through his leg. The smell of gunpowder and the mixture of their blood in the air was almost overwhelming. His hunger was rising. Human blood. It was right there. So close. He needed it to survive. He was so badly injured...he just needed a little blood.

His mouth watered, and he swung once more. There was a fresh, hot fountain of that delicious scent. He could almost taste the copper on his tongue. He went to bite, leaning closer.

BLAM!

His hearing was back. The bullet in his head must have moved around. And there was fresh pain in his other leg.

Things were getting darker with every passing moment. He suddenly glanced to the crowd around him. He was looking for something. He wasn’t sure what. He had no clue. But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because he couldn’t really see anything, and what was really there...was not what played out inside of his brain.

He had a little more fight left in him though. He never had been a quitter, and that was true all of the way to death. He’d seen the Shadow Realm enough times to not be afraid of it.

BLAM!

One last time.

He didn’t feel this one either.

What he did feel was the bracing smack of his back against the ground. He felt his sword slip out of his hand. Blood rushed from the fresh, third wound in his head. It puddled under him.

Ding ding.

The fight was over. Amalea had won.

Az's eyes were vacant.

And darkness consumed him.

Elizabeth had not expected Charles to take part in the bet with Viper, but when he did, who he bet upon was no surprise to the woman. Her eyes moved off Charles, to the gentleman besides her, to whom she smiled to. "You could end up a very rich person tonight, or..very poor." Two thousand might be a lot to some people, but to a successful business woman and hacker...not so much.

Her eyes moved off the 'ring' area, to where Doc was, and she tipped her head in amusement. Charles had such an expressive way about him, even if it could be seen as violent or crude to some. And while that may be true, the fact the man was so expressive also showed that he could, at times, be passionate. "Wait...I thought no one was going to die..." Elizabeth said, frowning. What if Amalea actually lost? Could she die?

But before she could get any real answers, the fight started, and all Elizabeth could do was hope that Doc was just lost in the moment, and being his usual passionate self.

To Be Continued...