Enter! The Demon of Russia!

Lorand's eyes narrowed at the mysterious lycan's retort. What exactly was this selection process he was talking about? After that encounter with Ogreman, Almos was more than a little interested in any mysterious forces turning their attention towards him. Chances were that the bald abomination wasn't involved in this one though. Based on how he'd conducted himself during their introductions, he seemed to be much more inclined to handle matters personally. No, this dog's master was a whole different player who obviously had some project in mind on a similar time table to both Ogreman's and his own.

Before Almos could get any concrete answers out of the werewolf, the one eyed vampire made a move of his own, engaging the super predator with a wooden bat of all things. An odd weapon of choice but Lorand had seen stranger. Why, he'd once seen a man try and fight using a giant chopstick, but that was neither here no there. What mattered in the here was learning a bit more about this mysterious master who had been keeping tabs on him and that meant backing up the insane batter. Presenting his left arm towards the lycan's exposed back, Almos' cursed chain thrust forward intent on spearing through the beast's spinal cord.

Noticing the chain, the wolf jumped, only the tip grazing his side as he dodged to the left. Seymour did not relent, though, jumping over him and doing a flip in the air. "Hot potato!" he called out, snapping off the end of his bat against the back of the werewolf's head. Even with the power behind the swing, it failed to do much damage. However, it did knock him out of the air and back to the ground.

Landing himself, the vampire grabbed the base of the broken bat, ripping through the bandages and barbed wire surrounding it to separate it from the intact bat. "The fun has been doubled!" he proclaimed, preparing a second, double-batted attack against the wolfman.

Begrudgingly, Almos was forced to admit that the lycan was a bit more powerful than he had originally expected. Dodging the Bloodied Links was no small feat but to do it while one's back was turned was truly impressive. Now that he had a better sense of the wolf's power, Lorand could understand where that underlying confidence of his came from. Unfortunately for the wolf, that was all the more incentive for the blond vampire to break him to the core. Any potential conflict with the one eyed vampire would have to be put on hold for the moment. Then again, he'd never seemed particularly violent towards Almos to begin with. Maybe, just maybe, Almos would be able to avoid having one more stupid baby seal jump head first into the meat grinder.

Focusing on the here and now, Lorand once again utilized the Bloodied Links to desecrate the corpse of the fallen weed, flinging the soggy mass of meat missile directly at the lycan after relieving it of that fancy firearm that the fool had been so intent on flailing around. While Almos was no master marksman, this range was short enough for even him to squeeze off three shots aimed at the wolf's center mass.

The lump of meat that had once been a person(?) was swiftly deflected with an arm smack. The bat tossed at the man's head, however, hit its mark. Doing no damage, same as before, it did distract him for the moments leading up to the three bullets chasing him down from the barrel of that gun. Two were dodged by a hair's breadth, but the third was able to impact. Scraping his side (in his chain wound, no less), the Lycan fell to the ground, convulsing at the mortal injury. Damage from the silver tip would be his death in mere moments.

"Kill stealing piece of shit!" the vampire yelled, tossing his remaining bat on the ground. "You're not invited to my birthday party." He was rightly upset at having yet another victim stolen by this competition. He'd have to get his pole to rightfully make amends for this injustice.

With the added distraction of the one eyed sociopath, at least one of Almos' bullets was able to find its mark against the lycan's form. Wasting little time after the wounded werewolf tumbled to the pavement, the former monk commanded his cursed chain to encircle the brute several times over in an attempt to bind his arms and legs together. While it was unlikely that this beast had much faith in God, the chain's base constricting strength was strong enough to cause a fair bit of pain, especially when it was focused on the rather gnarly wound in the lycan's side.

"You were actually useful, don't ruin the moment," he said in response to his fellow vampire's tantrum while advancing on the (hopefully) bound werewolf. "As for you, puppy..." No longer bothering to hide the amusement he was taking in the lycanthrope's suffering, Almos flashed a smile while grinding his boot down on the beast's wound. "Tell me who your master is and what he wants with me or I'll make sure you live long enough for this maniac to have his fun with you," the blond vampire exclaimed, gesturing flippantly to his one eyes cohort standing nearby.

The werewolf had a whole speech prepared. About how futile the vampire's resistance was and how little his death would mean. How his master would find him in time, regardless of the fight he made. That he would play his part in the grand scheme. But none of that was said, as he shuddered and died right after Almos finished speaking.

Smashing the bat into its corpse until the wood broke in two, Seymour began to hop up and down on the body. "Stop dying before I kill you!" he yelled, bending down and ripping one of the eyes out of the wolfy wolf head. Smacking it in his own head, he spun around like the awkward controls to a PS2-era horror game to get a good look at the world.

Rolling.

The member 'John Smith' has done the following action : Dices roll

'Twenty' : 8

Growling in frustration at the lycan's abrupt death, Almos removed his boot from the now lifeless body and stepped back just in time for the one eyed vampire to have his own violent fun with the corpse. However, to his credit, the one eye vampire had a little more to him than simple insanity. Despite the lycan's eye being sloppily shoved into Seymour's empty eye socket, it was moving in synch with the vampire's natural eye as if it belonged there from the beginning. Giving the garish vampire another look over, Almos slipped his hands into his pockets and squared his stance to the madman.

"Dial back the psychosis a bit. What is it you want with me?" Almos asked, or at least, tried to. Despite his attempt to speak in English, the words came out as broken Polish. Why was he speaking Polish? Since when did he know Polish? What the hell was going on here?

Hearing the sultry words leave the vampire's mouth, he knew it was time for some fun. "Polski jest językiem biegunach!" he proclaimed while completely understanding every bit of what he'd just said. "Wystarczy puścić i oglądać się zdarzyć, przyjaciel-o." He had no intentions of answering the question posed, though. Following this guy would be his secret pleasure for now. Death and destruction seemed to follow wherever he went, so this seemed like the best way to rack up some more kills. That weird cowboy was an appetizer, and watching these two assholes be ground into the pavement before he could even take a bite was like seeing a feast explode as you're running to get a fork. They'd be friendly best friends forever, so long as he kept bringing in more people to kill.

It did not come as much of a surprise that the short vampire responded in Polish.  At least that firmly established the short man's eye as the source of this recent linguistic problem.  All things considered, it didn't matter much.  There was no way in hell that an ability that easy to activate was in any way permanent.  All that Almos had to do was wait it out or perhaps put some distance between himself and the eye stealing maniac.  

Scoffing at his ridiculous ramblings, Lorand made a bit more space between himself and the other vampire before turning to leave the scene entirely.  "That's about all the crazy I care to put up with for one night."  With long, loping strides, the blond vampire began making his long overdue exit from the madness that was the Canadian club scene.  "Try not to make a pest of yourself," he said simply, not bothering to look back at the other vampire, let alone break his stride.  Whatever the intentions of the sociopath, Almos had no interest in friends or companions of his sort.  That being said, it would not be the first time that the fallen monk had made use of another vampire as a potential human shield.  So long as the short nosferatu managed to stay relatively in line and refrained from inhibiting Lorand's larger goals, he was free to do whatever popped in to his sick little head.