The Vampires of Ansien, Elinie

[X-Mhoried/Droene Kavarra (Iasonas)]

There is no light, unless you make your own. Your hearing and sense of presence is, however, quite keen...the vampire tries, three times, to assault you from behind. Each time it is met with enchanted steel; against which undead flesh seem resistant, but not immune. Each blow would have cut a man in half, but the vampire comes across but lightly injured. It hisses, then falls back into the darkness.

Bjorn has now withdrawn close to the wall. He stays there, his back close to the wall to avoid any surprise attacks from behind. He still depends on his hearing [OOC: Unless he has a torch with him. If he does, he lights it] (How much he would like a torch right now...) to warn him of the approach of the vampire.

He says whispering in the dark:

"Now we shall play a game I like very much .. fangy. It is called do or say something to make me angry, really angry."

His motivation is to make the vampire lose its confidence, or if he is lucky and the vampire accepts the challenge, make him furious.

[X-Elinie/RiD (Niels)]

Rashid grabs hold of his holy symbol of Avanalae and presents it firmly. "Back off, creature. My Faith is strong and you will not have me!" He then begins to edge towards the sword, knowing that without it he is in serious trouble.

The vampire merely smiles, standing just out of arms reach. Rashid moves closer to the sword, eyes fixed on the vampire, stumbling a bit on the thick carpet edge. The vampire lunges forward, only to veer back when Rashid recovers and raise the symbol again. The vampire hisses threateningly.

"Look me in the eye Rashid... Yield to me..." Rashid feels dizzy and nauseous, his will beginning to flag, why go on? - The vampire moves behind him and croones; "Just be still... soon there will be no more worries, Elinie will be ours..." as the vampire leans in to bite, thoughts rush through Rashid's head; "Elinie... theirs? - nnNo! NO! - Wait!" Regaining his will, Rashid buckles in the knees while swinging the pointy halfsun symbol into the face of the vampire. With a shriek it jumps backwards and vanish in a poof.

The Sun Sword on the floor is waning in light, without the will of the bearer, the light is dying out!

Rashid rolls forward, grabbing desperately for his sword in the dark, he can hear a flapping sound from behind and then something is on his mask, biting in the leather, trying to find flesh beneath!

Rolling on the floor, trying to dislodge the bat and still get ahold of his sword, Rashid grabs for the blade and gets a hold near the guard, and feels how blood seeps down the inside of his left glove as the keen edge of the sword bites into the palm.

Biting back a curse, scrunching up his shoulders to deter the incessant bat, now going increasingly berserk due to the smell of blood, Rashid finally gets the Sun Sword into his right hand.

"Avanalae, in our darkest hour, let there be LIGHT!!" The darkness explodes in white light, as if the brightest desert sun is right there in the room.

The bat squeels and flees, smoke trailing its form, as it flies crazily in and out of the stark shadows cast by the light. It falls to the ground behind the heavy wall-curtains on the opposite side of the room.

Rashid uses the reprieve to check his hand, its a bad cut, but nothing seems broken or severed. The Sword's reserves spent, it dims to the dull pre-dawn glow that seems to be all it is able to perform indefinately in this place.

A sound, like a steak hitting a frying pan, issues from behind the curtains and something moves there. Rashid, right hand on the sword, the left, trailing blood, clutching the holy symbol advance, the table between him and the curtains.

With a horrible scream, the vampire throws itself through the room, its covered in burn scars, but seems to be recovering at an alarming rate!

In a flash it is on Rashid, but he manages to put the sword between them, hitting the vampire clumsily over the chest, it still springs into a burst of flame where the sword hits its clothes, recoiling, the vampire pads down the flames and the two stand facing each other.

Rashid panting, the vampire inexorably regrowing lost skin, time is of the essence. They circle, the vampire easily staying out of Rahids reach. It is angry though, and the blood still flows freely from Rashid hand.

The vampire, desperate for the blood, but fearing the holy blade, grabs things off the dinner table, a plate, a stein, a heavy serving platter, a bottle of wine, a chair!

There is little Rashid can do as the barrage slams into him. He can parry a few of the larger items, but the glassware shatters and sends showers of sharp splinters into his skin and the metal and clay items hit with massive force, leaving bruises and stunned muscles.

Rashid keeps up the pursuit, trying desperately to get within striking range of the vampire. The vampire, running out of missiles to throw begins lifting the massive table. Rashid, thinking it has overextended itself, steps forward as he vampire strains, lifting first one end, then shifting grip, raising the table over its head, fangs out, eyes wild, it begins lurching towards Rashid.

The table, easily able to crush a man, does not seem palatable to Rashid, and he turns, crouching into a run as the table and vampire bears down on him, with a huge thundering blow, the table strikes the floor and then the back of Rashid, the wall suddenly looms up before him and his head slams into it, smashing his temple and nose, the weight of the table presses his chest flat before it comes to a rest against the wall.

The hilt of the Sun Sword, having faced the wall as Rashid raised his hands, has driven the point clear through the table and there was a terrible scream from the other side.

Rashid is woozy and loses consciousness for a few brief moments, he is not sure if seconds or minutes pass, but he summons his divine grace to grant him life and carefully begins to assess the situation...

(OOC: Ok? - Did I get it?  )

[X-Points East]

IC:

Almost immediately after the place is consumed in darkness, Elamien, who had been sitting quite peacefully, even during the Patriarch's speech,--though with a somewhat despondent aspect to her visage,--lifts an hand to her neck and to the relatively nondescript yet fine piece of jewellery, which encircles it.  Running her fingers across the five shapes of silver and gold, which hang thence, she removes the smallest of these and, when the voice of Ariadne has ceased, tosses it across the table,--if in fact the table remains,--toward the presumed location of the vampire, who had apparently been focused, most especially, upon her several movements.  She then spins out of her chair and backs away cautiously, either aided by the light of a projectile, which bursts into flame upon contact with some object, or trusting to her familiarity with movement in darkness, in the event that the projectile has no visible effect.  Removing a second item from the necklace, she holds this in her left hand as she readies her rapier, in her right. . . .

You catch a glimpse of the the vampire as it leaps away from the flames, faster than any human could hope to move. You strongly doubt you ability to hit it with a projectile. The flames do, however, create some light, which is in all ways beneficial to you (since you assume that vampires can see - perfectly well - in the dark).

IC:

In the brief moments, which she has bought herself, Elamien bolts in the opposite direction, toward the double doors, which at least formerly led to the sitting room, tossing the second item from the necklace blindly in her wake, in order to prevent or delay an attack from the rear.  As she hears this projectile, too, burst into flames, she dives across the great threshold, veering to the right and rolling to a crouching but defensive position, her rapier held high in defense of her life.  Muscles firm, eyes alert, she is prepared to strike at any figure, which should follow her through the aperture, limned in the dim red light of magical flames, beyond. . . .

[DM B]

There is no light, unless you make your own. Your hearing and sense of presence is, however, quite keen...the vampire tries, three times, to assault you from behind. Each time it is met with enchanted steel; against which undead flesh seem resistant, but not immune. Each blow would have cut a man in half, but the vampire comes across but lightly injured. It hisses, then falls back into the darkness.

Bjorn has now withdrawn close to the wall. He stays there, his back close to the wall to avoid any surprise attacks from behind. He still depends on his hearing [OOC: Unless he has a torch with him. If he does, he lights it] (How much he would like a torch right now...) to warn him of the approach of the vampire.

He says whispering in the dark:

"Now we shall play a game I like very much .. fangy. It is called do or say something to make me angry, really angry."

His motivation is to make the vampire lose its confidence, or if he is lucky and the vampire accepts the challenge, make him furious.

Bjorn continues to taunt the vampire, mocking him with words and preventing him from making any worthwhile attacks. It even tries its own word and mind games, but its power over Bjorn has already been broken. Finally its patience wears out and it makes and all out attack; a fatal mistake. Even undead flesh imbued with unholy power is no match of an enchanted claymore wielded by strong hands. Suddenly the thing is only trying to get way, only to find itself pierced through the hear and pinned to the floor, helpless. Drawing his dagger Bjorn slowly saws the thing's head from its body...it is immediately reduced to a shrunken and lifeless husk.

[DM B]

IC:

In the brief moments, which she has bought herself, Elamien bolts in the opposite direction, toward the double doors, which at least formerly led to the sitting room, tossing the second item from the necklace blindly in her wake, in order to prevent or delay an attack from the rear.  As she hears this projectile, too, burst into flames, she dives across the great threshold, veering to the right and rolling to a crouching but defensive position, her rapier held high in defense of her life.  Muscles firm, eyes alert, she is prepared to strike at any figure, which should follow her through the aperture, limned in the dim red light of magical flames, beyond. . . .

Nothing crosses the threshold; instead you hear outraged screams from the banquet hall. Outrage that turn into pure hate and the fear, before being cut short by the sounds of a terrible struggle. Then the sounds are gone as quickly as they came...save a limp thud and the sound of a vampire head slowly rolling through the flames to stop before your feat.

You barely limps a dark shape on the other side of the flames, but when you blink it is gone. A secret ally?

[DM B]

Rashid grabs hold of his holy symbol of Avanalae and presents it firmly. "Back off, creature. My Faith is strong and you will not have me!" He then begins to edge towards the sword, knowing that without it he is in serious trouble.

The vampire merely smiles, standing just out of arms reach. Rashid moves closer to the sword, eyes fixed on the vampire, stumbling a bit on the thick carpet edge. The vampire lunges forward, only to veer back when Rashid recovers and raise the symbol again. The vampire hisses threateningly.

"Look me in the eye Rashid... Yield to me..." Rashid feels dizzy and nauseous, his will beginning to flag, why go on? - The vampire moves behind him and croones; "Just be still... soon there will be no more worries, Elinie will be ours..." as the vampire leans in to bite, thoughts rush through Rashid's head; "Elinie... theirs? - nnNo! NO! - Wait!" Regaining his will, Rashid buckles in the knees while swinging the pointy halfsun symbol into the face of the vampire. With a shriek it jumps backwards and vanish in a poof.

The Sun Sword on the floor is waning in light, without the will of the bearer, the light is dying out!

Rashid rolls forward, grabbing desperately for his sword in the dark, he can hear a flapping sound from behind and then something is on his mask, biting in the leather, trying to find flesh beneath!

Rolling on the floor, trying to dislodge the bat and still get ahold of his sword, Rashid grabs for the blade and gets a hold near the guard, and feels how blood seeps down the inside of his left glove as the keen edge of the sword bites into the palm.

Biting back a curse, scrunching up his shoulders to deter the incessant bat, now going increasingly berserk due to the smell of blood, Rashid finally gets the Sun Sword into his right hand.

"Avanalae, in our darkest hour, let there be LIGHT!!" The darkness explodes in white light, as if the brightest desert sun is right there in the room.

The bat squeels and flees, smoke trailing its form, as it flies crazily in and out of the stark shadows cast by the light. It falls to the ground behind the heavy wall-curtains on the opposite side of the room.

Rashid uses the reprieve to check his hand, its a bad cut, but nothing seems broken or severed. The Sword's reserves spent, it dims to the dull pre-dawn glow that seems to be all it is able to perform indefinately in this place.

A sound, like a steak hitting a frying pan, issues from behind the curtains and something moves there. Rashid, right hand on the sword, the left, trailing blood, clutching the holy symbol advance, the table between him and the curtains.

With a horrible scream, the vampire throws itself through the room, its covered in burn scars, but seems to be recovering at an alarming rate!

In a flash it is on Rashid, but he manages to put the sword between them, hitting the vampire clumsily over the chest, it still springs into a burst of flame where the sword hits its clothes, recoiling, the vampire pads down the flames and the two stand facing each other.

Rashid panting, the vampire inexorably regrowing lost skin, time is of the essence. They circle, the vampire easily staying out of Rahids reach. It is angry though, and the blood still flows freely from Rashid hand.

The vampire, desperate for the blood, but fearing the holy blade, grabs things off the dinner table, a plate, a stein, a heavy serving platter, a bottle of wine, a chair!

There is little Rashid can do as the barrage slams into him. He can parry a few of the larger items, but the glassware shatters and sends showers of sharp splinters into his skin and the metal and clay items hit with massive force, leaving bruises and stunned muscles.

Rashid keeps up the pursuit, trying desperately to get within striking range of the vampire. The vampire, running out of missiles to throw begins lifting the massive table. Rashid, thinking it has overextended itself, steps forward as he vampire strains, lifting first one end, then shifting grip, raising the table over its head, fangs out, eyes wild, it begins lurching towards Rashid.

The table, easily able to crush a man, does not seem palatable to Rashid, and he turns, crouching into a run as the table and vampire bears down on him, with a huge thundering blow, the table strikes the floor and then the back of Rashid, the wall suddenly looms up before him and his head slams into it, smashing his temple and nose, the weight of the table presses his chest flat before it comes to a rest against the wall.

The hilt of the Sun Sword, having faced the wall as Rashid raised his hands, has driven the point clear through the table and there was a terrible scream from the other side.

Rashid is woozy and loses consciousness for a few brief moments, he is not sure if seconds or minutes pass, but he summons his divine grace to grant him life and carefully begins to assess the situation...

(OOC: Ok? - Did I get it?  )

Suddenly the table is torn away and tossed across the room, taking the Sun Sword with it. And enraged and light-burned vampire stands on the other side. He casually picks up the Patriarch and starts slamming him into the floor and wall - repeatedly. You try your best...but your best is worthless against his power. Then, as all power has left your limp body it sinks its fangs into your neck and drink deeply...

...the next you feel is a terrible heat; only the vampire's body shelter you from the worst of it. The beast screams and rolls to the side, coming up in a fighting stance. Maester Kaleiman is there, leaning heavily on his staff, horribly injured. With a twist of his hand the sun sword is torn from the table and hurtles towards the vampire, who counters it with powers of his own. Silence descends as wizard and vampire pit their will against each other...

[DM B]

The previously so handsome male vampire that sat opposite your comes snarling into the light, turned into a hideous monstrosity of fangs and claws and undead flesh. It is not a subtle creature, but one of rage and ferocity. Monster and champion of light clash, and Robhan is fighting the fight of his life...

Robhan grinned ferally, "so your true face is revealed demon, no wonder you preferred glamour and left the speaking to your fellows!"

Giving ground as required the High Marshal fought defensively, with his blade he had reach on the beast, it could not approach without injury and so long as he kept moving could not close as it clearly desired.  Robhan grimaced in pain as a swinging claw left scores in his bracer and ducked the follow up blow, courage Haelyn's child, so ferocious an onslaught cannot endure, even with vampiric vitality stern martial training mixed with faith in his soul and the Marshal remained icily calm.  Swallowing his pain the High Marshal battled on, should some taunt or continued failure enrage the brute further, then careless rage would leave Robhan some opening, some chance to make a skillful blow that would cripple the beast, skill always beats brute force if courage holds...

Taunting the Vampire whenever he had breath and praying for light and protection against evil whenever he could Robhan fought grimly on - others needed his aid, if the beast did not falter soon, he would have to act more aggressively or fail his allies, spotting a chair broken on the floor  Robhan began easing the fight round to it, if the vampire did not see the chair in its ferocious rush, then a stumble might grant Robhan the chance he needed...

There is little time for such tricks, its claw against blade, will against will. And your blade and your will is the stronger; the holy warriors of Haelyn, armed with a holy relics, are not undone by simple shadowspawn! With a final mighty heave you cleave the beast near enough in twain, only to have it torn to mist before your eyes! The mist disappears into the dark...

[DM B]

Medlorhie quickly stands from the table just as the darkness consumes her, but darkness does not completely pass over her.  A subtle light hidden by ambient light surrounds her head with a subtle glow before reaching ever so slightly towards the heavens before succumbing to the darkness.  It is as if a single ray from the Lady of Light has descended upon her. Medlorhie is channeling a direct aspect of Avanlae ([Lesser Planar Ally], cast prior to the adventure start). As she stands, she touches a plate to infuse it with the power of light. [Daylight]

Holding she raises her hand to her chest over her holy symbol and four fingers of her other hand to her forehead and says quietly.

"O Great Lady, Most Benevolent Light, I seek refuge in Your Light from the Shadow and I seek refuge in Thee, My Lady, that they may know their works be undone." [Death Ward & Protection from Evil]

The next prays is in the most ancient of Basarji, used only when the clergy of Avanlae calls out to Her Divine Light in the Face of the Shadow.  Medlorhie places her hands before her chest, palms toward one another. 

"Avanlae is the light of the heavens and the earth. The allegory of Her light is that of a concave mirror behind a lamp that is placed inside a glass container. The glass container is like a bright, pearl-like star. The fuel thereof is supplied from a blessed oil-producing tree, that is neither eastern, nor western. Its oil is almost self-radiating; needs no fire to ignite it. Light upon light. Avanlae guides to Her light whoever wills to be guided. Avanlae thus cites the parables for the people. Avanlae is fully aware of all things. And now I return you to the Lady, She Who Cannot Bear the Darkness, I return you to death."

As she speaks, white light gathers in her hands. She calls out in a loud voice while thrusting her hands out a brief flash of light. [Turn Undead powered by the Sun Domain & Holy Smite]

Should these things not be enough, she switches to Searing Light or utilizes Summon Monster III/IV to confer upon herself a suitable attack form from one of Avani's servitors (Lantern Archon Light Ray for instance, or something like that).


OOC: Modified, since I read Bjorn's post, and since we are alone.

The beast screams, turns into mist and hides somewhere in the dark shadows. Then you hear them approaching from all sides; the vampire's servants, rushing you, trying to pull you down. You hear laughter in the distance, and then the room become pitch black.

[DM B]

Awaiting posting from at least a few participants.

PETG/Mhoried have defeated their opponent, and can perhaps explore or do something really creative.

[X-Elinie/RiD (Niels)]

Rashid coughs, thick fluid spilling down his chest. He weakly wipes his eyes free of blood to better see the scene before him.

The room is in ruins, broken furniture is everywhere, the tablecloth is on fire as is several small patches of debris, lighting the room in a nightmarish glow.

The vampire and Kaleiman are facing off, hands extended in a bid to control the Sun Sword as it hangs in the air between them, spinning quickly, swinging like a pendulum from first one side, then back towards the other.

Whoever loses the battle of will is sure to be impaled or worse... "Well, lose the battle of will, or becomes sufficiently distracted." Rashid thinks to himself.

Attempting to not make noise, he tries to gain his feet, but dizzy from the loss of blood, he makes do with crawling on his knees. Scanning for a weapon, his hand closes upon a broken piece of wood, a sharp point looking a fine candidate for an improvised stake.

"Thats gonna get his attention," Rashid thinks. He then begins the agonising crawl towards the vampire's back. Its concentration appears to be on the battle of wills, assuming Rashid broken and unable to resist, or so Rashid hopes, and bitterly conclude, its very close to the truth.

At the last few yards, Rashid gathers strength, then with a surge of sheer willpower, he gets to his feet and makes a final silent charge towards the vampire's back, going for the blow that will end it one way or another, even if he fails to hit, Kaleiman might finish the job.

[DM B]

Rashid coughs, thick fluid spilling down his chest. He weakly wipes his eyes free of blood to better see the scene before him.

The room is in ruins, broken furniture is everywhere, the tablecloth is on fire as is several small patches of debris, lighting the room in a nightmarish glow.

The vampire and Kaleiman are facing off, hands extended in a bid to control the Sun Sword as it hangs in the air between them, spinning quickly, swinging like a pendulum from first one side, then back towards the other.

Whoever loses the battle of will is sure to be impaled or worse... "Well, lose the battle of will, or becomes sufficiently distracted." Rashid thinks to himself.

Attempting to not make noise, he tries to gain his feet, but dizzy from the loss of blood, he makes do with crawling on his knees. Scanning for a weapon, his hand closes upon a broken piece of wood, a sharp point looking a fine candidate for an improvised stake.

"Thats gonna get his attention," Rashid thinks. He then begins the agonising crawl towards the vampire's back. Its concentration appears to be on the battle of wills, assuming Rashid broken and unable to resist, or so Rashid hopes, and bitterly conclude, its very close to the truth.

At the last few yards, Rashid gathers strength, then with a surge of sheer willpower, he gets to his feet and makes a final silent charge towards the vampire's back, going for the blow that will end it one way or another, even if he fails to hit, Kaleiman might finish the job.

You never make it far enough to attack the vampire; he just turns his head and sends you fling with a fist to the chest. It is enough, however, to give the wizard the advantage. The Sun Sword spins around one final time before hurtling forward into the vampire's chest. It cachets fire, and in seconds only ash remains...Kaleiman drop like a sack of...something not very mobile...

[X-Points East]

IC:

In the brief moments, which she has bought herself, Elamien bolts in the opposite direction, toward the double doors, which at least formerly led to the sitting room, tossing the second item from the necklace blindly in her wake, in order to prevent or delay an attack from the rear.  As she hears this projectile, too, burst into flames, she dives across the great threshold, veering to the right and rolling to a crouching but defensive position, her rapier held high in defense of her life.  Muscles firm, eyes alert, she is prepared to strike at any figure, which should follow her through the aperture, limned in the dim red light of magical flames, beyond. . . .

Nothing crosses the threshold; instead you hear outraged screams from the banquet hall. Outrage that turn into pure hate and the fear, before being cut short by the sounds of a terrible struggle. Then the sounds are gone as quickly as they came...save a limp thud and the sound of a vampire head slowly rolling through the flames to stop before your feat.

You barely limps a dark shape on the other side of the flames, but when you blink it is gone. A secret ally?

IC:

Elamien stares into the banquet hall for some seconds, as she gathers her poise; then, glancing down at the sad sign of decapitation, she shakes her head, stands, and steps over it.  She walks around for a time, searching for she knows not what, yet searching none the less. . . . At length, aided by a make-shift torch, she approaches the bedroom, in which she apparently slept, in order to discover some means of escaping her isolation.  Entering, she advances to the window, whence came the cold half-light of a false and shadowy dawn, when she awoke upon this darksome day. . . .

[X-Mhoried/Droene Kavarra (Iasonas)]

Bjorn leaves the remains of the vampire on the ground, and takes a good look around [OOC: Spot]. He does not look ready to believe that this vampire was the only one stalking him. Not when his life is on the line.

He starts walking carefully in the dark [OOC: Move Silently] listening for the faintest sound [OOC: Listen], always one hand touching the wall (to avoid losing all sense of direction and perspective of the room). He is searching for a door, a way out of the room. Right now he is concerned about the others. Frankly, they did not seem to him to have been ready for this kind of fight. He was a survivalist, and it was time to put his skills in use.

If Bjorn finds a way out, he will try to take it, very carefully. He also tries to remember the face of the Patriarch Rashid. After having heard a lot of stories about the Shadow World, he is willing to try almost everything to find the others, even if it seems useless and a bunch of superstitions to him.

[X-LPA/Gaerred Khaiarén (Gray)]

She curses, dropping her staff-spear.

She reaches low to the ground, before spinning invoke the Saints of Avani to her cause and protection, enveloping herself in wispy bluish flames, casting a small glow [Fire Shield, Sun Domain]. With the same fluid motion draws her saber, and braces her for them.

The onslaught is swift and deadly but the attackers underestimate the small woman.  The first Worg slam into her head on knocking Medlorhie back, and causing the two flanking Worgs to miss their target.  As the first worg recoils from the flames, Medlorhie slices downward with her saber, a vicious blow which cleaves its snout in two.  The second Worg swipes her leg, where her armor is thin. The blow draws blood and takes her left out from under her; she lands heavily, but the second Worg stumbles on a badly burned paw.  Her saber sprawls away, as she claws for her nearby spear.

The third Worg leaps slamming into Medlorhie on the ground. There is the satisfying crunch of bone, as Medlorhie cries out in pain from a broken rib.  Yet, Medlorhie's is not the only cry, for the Worg, wholly exposed to the flames, shrieks in pain, before rolling in the side. 

She reaches her spear and stands shakily.  The second Worg circles menacing near her, obviously favoring its left paw.  Blood is running down her leg, making movement a little precarious.  They circle a few moments, Medlorhie, summons light from her spear [Light]. The Worg springs, Medlorhie drops to the ground, only to thrust up with the business end of her spear, skewering the Worg for a brief moment (Kabob anyone?).

Medlorhie stands to survey the area to locate 'her' vampire when from the darkness a chair flies, slamming hard into Medlorhie and propelling her into the wall behind her.  For a moment she is dazed, yet she stands.

"You are too old. Are you not growing tired, High Hierophant?" A taunting voices calls from the darkness beyond the reach of her light.

A plate flies from the darkness, Medlorhie only barely dodges, but the motion wracks her body with pain. She circles to her sword picking it up ever so carefully.

Medlorehie knows that she cannot last long; she is a priestess not a warrior.  A sage, not a swordsman. She steels herself, and silently gives a prayer to the Lady, only to be blessed with inspiration.

Medlorhie smiles every so slightly into the darkness.

"Do you greet death with a smile, Light of Avanlae?" The taunting voice responds tinged with the huff of exertion.

Medlorhie hurls her spear in the direction of the voice, reaching up to her holy symbol, while calling on the light of the Lady.  As it flies, it passes by a table heading in the opposite direction.  Just as the Vampire is revealed, Medlorhie releases a searing ray of Avani's retribution [Searing  Light], only to promptly have a table crash into her, slamming her to the a wall, which she slowly slides down.

[X-Elinie/RiD (Niels)]

Pain... Life is pain. Sleep now. No... Not yet. Drowsily Rashid drags himself into a sitting position, heaving deep breaths after being winded, battered, drained, sliced and even spattered with various foods. It tough to be the Patriarch, but someones got to do it.

He pushes aside debris, as he crawls first to the Sun Sword, picking it up for its light, then as fast as he is able, he moves to Maester Kaleiman and praying for the strength to do so, lets his last powers of healing flow into the old man.

Then he tends to himself, using wraps of cloth to stem bleeding. The bite marks sieving a leak that thankfully seems to be clotting. He wraps them and is pleased that the high collar somewhat covers the bandage.

His left arm is aching badly, its definately sprained, and the bone might have cracked a little, so he ties it up over his chest.

Checking the Maester, Rashid begins to wonder if this nightmare will ever end. For now, he is content to sit with Kaleiman, sword glowing, just gathering his thoughts and a little strength.

He has taken his mask off, the air is thick with smoke from the small fires, and it is too hot to do anything really. Just a little rest...