The Vatican Historical Museum

Description: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vatican_Historical_Museum (link because I'm lazy)

His brief detour to have a conversation with the young girl from the True Cross had come with quite a few benefits. The first was, of course, the knowledge that he'd been able to plant a bit of doubt within the female exorcist's little girl. Physical pain was one thing, but few people had a better understanding of just how badly a relationship with one's daughter could hurt than Almos. There was potential in that little girl alright, bubbling just beneath the surface waiting to be nurtured and exploited. It might take a while, in fact it would likely be an extended process if he even pursued it at all but sooner or later he would sit back and watch that relationship crumble around them. Wait for that slight twitch in the exorcist's eyes when her daughter's dedication and loyalty completely failed. Bones eventually healed but scars like that never went away.

Almos Lorand laughed at the very thought of it despite himself as he emerged from the darkened alleyway near the Vatican Historical Museum. The sun had barely set but the streets were already nearly deserted. So considerate of them to go to bed so early just for him. Pale hands stuffed into his pockets, the vampire strode towards the orange brick building, the light grey trim on the doors and windows visible to even a normal man at this hour. The lights within the building were extinguished at this point save for the few traces of flashlights belonging to the night patrolmen.

Yet another grin split the vampire's face as he paused at the base of the building. He'd already found the letter he was searching for of course, having the common sense to join in with one of the final tours in the afternoon when there were still plenty of crowds to blend into. His prize awaited him on the second floor within a waist high display case of reinforced glass behind velvet ropes of course.

Looking over the building now, Lorand couldn't help but appreciate the relative lack of protection set in place for this little trinket. Then again, perhaps this is what they called taking refuge in audacity. The head quarters of the True Cross and the palace of the Pope were one thing but a simple museum in the city was hardly significant enough to warrant exorcist guard dogs. And why would it? The very idea that a vampire would be foolish enough to set foot in this holy city was preposterous.

That was exactly what the vampire was counting on. It was thanks to the general lack of precaution that newly minted vampires possessed that he had to thank for this mindset really. No one ever had the patience for long term goals. In his experience, Lorand would be hard pressed to think of half a dozen vampires with the foresight to seek a letter like this not for its immediate value, but for the future knowledge that it could bring.

Now it was a simple matter to scale the wall and enter through a window on the second floor but much to the vampire's surprise, he was met with his first bit of resistance the moment he tried. Yellow sparks raced across his left hand, forcing him to recoil from the light burns as he became all too aware of the barrier that had been erected around the museum. Hm, it feels old. They probably put one on every major building and called it a day, the vampire reasoned, giving the clergy at least passing credit for their little fence. Unfortunately for them, the former monk was more than capable of getting around it.

Narrowing his gaze a bit, Almos removed both of his hands from his pockets and traced his right index fingernail across his left palm to form the seal of Urian in his own blood. The black Enochian sigil immediately resonated with the seals burned into the rest of his body, becoming hot to the touch as the vampire thrust his hand against the barrier once more. The effect was almost instantaneous as the barrier of the faithful cracked, shattered, and finally faded from existence, replaced with a corrupted version of his own design.

Now that only brick and mortar remained between him and his goal, it was a simple matter hoist himself up along the outer wall, his strong hands finding purchase with the gaps in the bricks to cover the paltry distance to the second floor. Once there, his nefarious claws were once again brought to bare, latching onto the wooden window frame and violently wrenching it open with a subdued crack of glass. It might have alerted the night watchmen but that was hardly a concern for the former monk as he slinked through the open window with the grace of a cat only to slide it closed behind him. Couldn't have too much unwelcome attention now could he?

Spoiler:

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Ordinarily, Calce would have long since returned to the headquarters of his organization by this time of night. It was quite well known amongst his peers that, on the days he was allotted off, he never liked staying out beyond twilight if he could help it. He despised the night, but today was just so happened to be one where an incident that prevented him from enjoying the downtime had occurred, much to his utter annoyance.

A recent squabble with the museum administrator about the children in the tours earlier that day, specifically those from the local orphanage, having touched some of the artifacts had sparked quite the large argument, and it had lasted for several hours. Not one to typically indulge in such pointless activities, the most Calce did was tune the man out, steal a few drinks of the mans scotch, ate most of the hard candies on his desk, and let him get it out of his system.

Looking at the time, it was fair to say that was a bad idea considering it sucked up all of his time off. It was the noticing of the sun setting that Calce had finally told the man to, in rather blunt terms, shut the hell up and fuck off before taking his leave, which put him the in current situation he now found himself. Ramification was unlikely, especially since the administrator had no true connections to the organization in which he was a member of, so he could at least take comfort in knowing his livelihood wasn't threatened by his actions since there was no one to report them to the higher-up's above him.

Seeing himself out, Calce could at least enjoy the sights of the museum on the way towards the exit from the current position he held on the second floor, which was where the office of the administrator was also located. The Paladin's hands remained tucked tightly in the pockets of his cassock, letting the thoughts of what had previously occurred slip from his mind. He never angered easily, partially because of how detached he had become over the years, which was just another way to explain his bluntness as well.

However, something immediately felt wrong upon reaching the staircase that would lead him to the first floor and the eventual exit he had previously set as his destination. The man's skills as an exorcist had become greatly diluted over his lack of using them, that much was true, but that hardly prevent him from noticing when other barriers had been utterly removed, particularly ones that he had previously inhabited. This was because of the calming effect that most barriers that True Cross had used to project the major buildings brought with them.

"What... is this!? It wasn't just destroyed, it was replaced?" The feeling of calm and tranquility had all but disappeared, and the feeling that replaced it only made his spine tingle with a feeling of oppression and alertness all at the same time. Despite his lackluster skills in the area, he knew all too well the signs of a someone utilizing the dark arts, partially due to the countless hours he had it drilled into his head during the younger years of his life by Veronica in the archives. Only those using high level black rituals could outright destroy and replace a barrier of such standing in such an instant fashion.

He had braced himself in his current position, turning back to face the second floor behind him for his keen eyes to scan over the various objects and items that lay on display within the rooms confines. "A cultist, perhaps? Here, in Rome, so close to headquarters? Unlikely, but who else could..." The thought faded from his mind as he took note of the faintest cracking of glass, causing him to step forwards further into the maze of displays and towards the sounds origin.

Tensed and ready to react at a moments notice, Calce began his search of the second floor with caution and readiness, utilizing the enhanced senses he had gained through the disciplinary action that he had put himself through, in addition to the reinforcement of Faeth to further propel their ability, in an attempt to help locate the intruder.

Pausing only to brush a bit of dirt from his hands, the vampire made his way towards the letter he'd come here to find.  A relatively simple building, the museum was rectangular in design with a main gallery in the center of each floor surrounded by a hallway lined with additional items.  Almos' letter in particular was located in one of these hallways.  Specifically, just around the corner and midway down the hall from where he currently was.  

And then an old man rounded the corner with a flashlight.  

Honestly, Almos wouldn't have minded finishing this without killing anyone but evidently luck was not on the old night guardsman's side tonight.  The vampire was upon him in a second, forcibly shoving his entire hand into the guard's mouth and gripping his throat to completely silence him before he had time to scream.  Fear, confusion, and panic all flashed behind the old man's eyes as he struggled in a futile attempt to free his airway to scream.  For all his terror though, all the vampire could manage was a disgusted pity.  Pity for an old man who had more than likely said his prayers by night like a good little Catholic.  

And where has that gotten you?  Are you even happy?  The former monk's fingers tightened, slowly shattering the old man's teeth and lower law.  Lorand could feel the spasms of silent pain moving through the body as the pain intensified by the second until his patience was exhausted.  Deep down, Almos was almost hoping to be wrong, aching for some sign from above that would save this old man for his faith.  Anything that would even imply that the bastard he'd once called a god even gave a damn.  

Snarling, the vampire spun the old man towards the nearest article of worship, an antique crucifix plated in gold, and whispered a single message into his ear.  "Ask Him why you weren't worth saving." the words hung in the air just long enough to register on an emotional level before the old man's head was driven down onto the bronze pole holding up the velvet rope meant to keep visitors away from the artifacts.  Flesh tore and the skull plate shattered against the metal ball as it impaled the old guard's skull with one fluid motion, covering the vampire's hands in blood and gore that was quickly shaken free.  

Not bother to spare the corpse a second glance, Lorand continued around the corner.  He'd learned a long time ago to not look back for fear of what personal demons might be clawing their way out of his past at any given moment.  No, the only option he had, the only option he ever had was to move forward.  And as he did so, the vampire stumbled upon yet another surprise within the walls of the museum; a priest at the opposite end of the hall.  He'd expected the potential run ins with guards but to encounter one of the clergy was honestly not a part of his plans.  This was getting very messy, very fast.

The hallways of the museum were at the mercy of the Paladins faeth-enhanced senses, and it took little effort on his part to locate the intruder with the plethora working in unison with one another in their respective aspects. The grotesque sound of bone cracking against the metallic pole touched the Paladins ears, and the smell of splattered of iron and brain matter touched his nose, and he followed them in hopes of finding the person who was undoubtedly responsible for the destruction of the barrier not a few minutes ago.

Towering form silhouetted at the end of the hallway, hidden features masked in shadow twitching at the unpleasant trail of gore that brought him to this location, the sound and smell were enough for Calce to understand that, at the hands of the monster which stood before him at the other end of the hallway, at least one of the night guards would not be returning to those who awaited him. It was a sad realization, that such an innocent bystander had met his untimely end, but it was far from being the most pressing matter at the moment. However, he did give a cursory, mental prayer at the regrettable loss of life. Sadly, at least, for the intruder, Asinus Calce was never one to make inquiry until after a situation was resolved.

Attention fully focused on the individual at the end of the hall, Asinus wasted little time in bringing to bear the formidable weapons of his trade; the six short swords seemingly appearing in his hands as if he had simply willed them to materialize, though this could merely be attested to the mans astounding skill in having handled the weapons for so many years. Clutching three between the fingers of each hand, they would only remain in his grasp for a moment before they were loosed down the hall in a striking volley of piercing speed, the velocity of which blurred their forms into naught but silver streaks.

The target of their deadly blades was not the unwanted intruder, however, as the formation they flew in was far too widespread. No, instead they would impale themselves into the walls of the hallways, two laying claim to the ceiling, two to the walls, and the final two protruding from the tile floor. Each of them, possessing the power to dispell unholy, would radiate with a seething purity that, while not powerful enough to utterly abolish the replaced barrier the vampire had put in place of the old, was powerful enough to negate the barriers effect within the hallway itself.  

However, the holy blades would not be the only thing to have been set in motion. Immediately upon loosing them from his grasp, Asinus Calce, favoring the physical approach to any situation, would have seemed to blur out of existence to mere mortal eyes with the help of the Faeth enhancements placed upon his body. Leg strength deemed impossible to obtain by ordinary means would propel him down the hall at superhuman speeds, to the point of where he would not appear to be sprinting, but his posture resembling that of a man who had only taken a single leap, his blurred form more gliding than running, towards the blond figure that stood before him.

The left arm of his body would be pulled across his torso horizontally, while that of his right would be outstretched behind him, palm out and fingers extended, only for the entire limb to be thrust with inhuman power when within proper range of the intruder, the intent to shatter the ribcage of the trespasser and bury the dislodged and shattered bones into internal organs that lay below the flesh being extremely prominent in the posture that his body had adopted.

He'd barely been here five minutes and the former monk had already crossed paths with a paladin priest. It had to have been a coincidence. Enemy territory or not, Lorand had double checked his tracks on the way here to ensure that he hadn't been followed. No, this priest was either stationed here regularly (highly unlikely considering his earlier tour of the place) or it was good, old rotten luck. Regardless of the explanation, the only option was to deal with his fool as quickly as possible and get the hell out of the city. Unfortunately, that task would wind up being a bit more complex than Almos would have liked.

He's fast...too fast, the vampire thought to himself as the clergyman put his blades to use with inhuman force. Beyond simply his throwing speed, the priest's movement speed was beyond that of a normal man as well. Faeth! Almos silently spat the word as if it were a curse, his mind flashing back to his time learning the intricacies of exorcism all those years ago. They were bad memories, but just the sort Lorand needed at the moment. The briefest thought of those days was enough to make his blood boil even behind the smug sneer his face displayed. They were a welcome reminder of his purpose for being here and perfect fuel for pulling the whipped dog before him into bloody pieces.

The vampire lowered his center of gravity and readied himself as the priest closed in with a strange grace. For the moment, Almos believed himself to be the faster but the clergyman's movements were strange even by the standards of martial arts. Luckily, the vampire was no stranger to pain and mentally steeled himself to take a bit of pain in order to deal far greater pain.

As the priest came in for a blow, his posture finally unveiled his intent to blast straight through the vampire's chest. His smile widening, Almos resigned himself to meet the blow head on. Both of his hands came in hard to catch the priest's thrust at the wrist before it could unload its full destructive momentum into the vampire's chest. Despite his successful defense, the force of the priest's blow was on par with his speed and a dull 'thump' reverberated throughout the hall as the force of their collision dissipated in an instant.

Never one to waste time, or play fair for that matter, Lorand took immediate initiative after catching the blow to expel a mouthful of saliva at the clergyman's eyes without releasing his vice grip on the Catholic's arm. The spit was, of course, merely a distraction from the real assault in the form of Lorand's spiked chain, Enkidu. Darting forth from the underside of the vampire's left sleeve to use the priest's own right arm as cover, the vicious spike was sent to impale the True Cross member in the right armpit before spearing its way through his heart and lungs before finally emerging through the left armpit.

Senses that were greatly enhanced by Faeth allowed Calce a pristine understanding of what was happening around them, giving him the chance to observe the movements of his opponent as they were happening. In fact, the Paladin's favor towards close-quarters combat even gave him a bit of precognition, as it were, simply from the experience that he had gathered over the years in physical combat. However, his ability to to read and analyze body language was far more in depth because of his superhuman senses, and he met the result of his charge with surprising stoicism, yet the blank eyes that he looked upon his opponent with held small ounces of surprise.

This intruder had opted to intercept the blow, and did so with strength he dared to say was even beyond his own, which was impossible to achieve by ordinary standards. Even he, who had mastered the ability to use faeth as a physical steroid, could only attain the physical height he was currently at. This information forced Calce to conclude that what he was currently engaging was not simply a vile cultist attempting to strike back at Rome, but a vampire who had access to Naether abilities that was intent on taking something from this museum. He neglected to inquiry about what would be so important as to make a child of the night trespass into the holy city, both of out standard principle and the fact he had little time to do so.

Catching the vampires lips pucker slightly with his keen eyes, the intent became clear enough for Asinus to adjust the position of his head to avoid the incoming saliva that would have temporarily blinded him by tilting it heavily to the left. Catching a glimpse from the angle his head was now positioned at, in addition to having heard the cursed chains movement from within the sleeve even before it had wanted to reveal itself, Calce's left palm shot across his chest once again to intercept the chain with a tight grip on the lengths just behind the spike, preventing it from fulfilling it's otherwise gruesome duty with a sudden interference, stopping it mere centimeters from the place it sought to enter.  

However, this was not all that would occur on Calce's part, for in the very same motion that his left arm would fly out to catch the chain that had taken cover under his right arm, so, too, would his left foot step forward between the vampires own footing as he drove his left elbow towards the vampires solar plexus with devastating force and brutal intent that was reinforced by a faeth. Aiding this attempt, Clace would pull back on his right arm simultaneously, which would pull the vampire who would still have a grip on the wrist into the blow for even more of an impact should he not release it.

The force of this blow would not only have faeth to strengthen it, but the external power generated by the body, so not only was it intended to follow up in the task of breaking of the rib cage like the previous strike, but it would likely launch the vampire from his feet and down the hall due to the incomprehensible collaboration of the power generated by martial arts and faeth working in tandem with one another.

Though he would never admit it, the vampire had to give the priest a bit of credit for his reaction time. No doubt bolstered by the spiritual power of faeth, the clergyman was clearly an experienced martial artist. Catching Enkidu like that was no small feat on its own, let alone dealing with Almos’ attempts to blind him beforehand. Regardless of the begrudging iota of acknowledgement and frustration at the priest’s skills welling up within the vampire, the former monk made sure that his smirk remained in place if only to unnerve his opponent.

Suddenly, the priest pulled his right arm back while stepping forward with his left foot. Despite not being a martial artist himself, Almos’ experience in murder over the decades had given him enough of an eye to recognize an incoming problem when he saw one. He could simply try to divert and deflect the priest once more but that would only prolong the confrontation. No, it was time to unveil another ace up his sleeve and go on the offensive.

Following the jerk of the priest’s arm, Almos stepped forward with his left leg to prevent falling over and tightened his grip on the clergyman’s wrist, squeezing the relatively fragile joint with his full strength even as the elbow came around to cave in his sternum. Unfortunately for the priest, Lorand had no intention of being struck by a blow like that. Waiting for the last possible moment, Almos employed his greatest defense, Angra Mainyu.

Erupting from the very core of Almos’ beings, the crimson barrier would flare to life, violently rejecting the faithful soul of the priest who dared to stand within its territory. While that itself would have been enough to catapult the clergyman some distance away, the presence of faeth flowing through his limbs made it that much easier. Or at least it would if Almos had any intention of allowing the agent of the True Cross to simply be blown away. Even as the Sphere of Desecration made its presence known, Lorand maintained his grip on the priest’s wrist and rooted his stance through his left leg. Anchoring the opponent while violently expelling them from the area was one of the more aggressive uses of his ultimate shield and Almos was true to form this time, fully intending to tear off or at least badly mangle the priest’s right arm.

It was obvious now that the vampire had little in the way of physical training, at least with regards to the disciplined sort, but this was the second time Calce's attempt at obliterating the beasts ribcage had been foiled - one that had occurred from nearly a pointblank distance, no less - and that alone was worthy enough to warrant a great deal of caution on the Paladin's part. Especially so, given what was utilized to accomplish such a feat. It seemed that, regardless of training, heightened senses and pagan rituals more than made up for the lack of physical finesse on part of the unwanted intruder, and it quickly became more apparent that this was an enemy far more suitable for an experienced exorcist to deal with, than one such as himself.

The pain throbbing from the now fractured and soon to be shattered wrist within the vampires grasp had been pushed aside by the sheer intrigue of what he was witnessing. The piercing elbow strike that had been aimed towards the solar plexus of his target had been intercepted by a vibrant sphere of crimson luminescence, and the impact was one that even made the stoic features of Calce wince slightly in protest of making contact. It greatly reminded him of the sphere that could be conjured by Sister Corvis, in a way, and that such a beast could reach this kind of level within the Naether arts was quite terrifying and worried him even more.

In fact, he felt repelled by sphere, and believed he would have been thrown back several yards had it not been for the vampires crushing grip to hold him in place. This feeling was made especially known by the sound of fingers snapping as the barriers passed over the restrained hand, trying to repel the limb that was anchored within it's influence, even to the point of where he felt the vampires grip slowly loosening. Unfortunately, Asinus had no intention of giving up the advantage he maintained while within close quarters, and his own fortitude allowed him to dig into his own bracing stance in what would appear to be an attempt to muscle through the unholy barrier with the tip of his elbow remaining in direct contact for a small portion of the duration.

This would not be the full extent of his actions, however, as he immediately realized such a forceful attempt would not bear fruit for someone so lackluster in the more obscure Faeth arts, and instead decided to utilize the rejection properties of the enemy's barrier to his own benefit. Relaxing the tension with the left arm that made contact with the barrier, he would allow it to ricochet backwards with enough force to torque his body to the left which would incidentally pull the cursed chain in which he still maintained a grip upon further out of the vampire's sleeve.

Following this with a smooth motion, or more precisely a flick of his own wrist, he would whip the lengths back towards the vampire in a manner that would cause the body to form a loop that was targeted to fall around Lorand's head and wrap around the neck akin to a noose. In doing so, he would make use of the remainder of the barrier by lifting his right leg and placing his foot against it's surface, with it acting to repel the Paladin with all it's force, he would add on to it by pushing away to launch himself down the hallway with the other end of the chain still in his hand to pull it taught with his travel, in addition to putting himself closer to the swords he had previously used to purify the hallways.

As disappointing as it might have been, it appeared that Almos' ploy would not be quite enough to completely tear off the priest's hand. That aside, the vampire could feel the clergyman's bones creaking and suffering under his grip as Angra Mainyu began to force him from the area. Supernatural strength or not, Almos was well aware that his grip would way before the tendons in the holy man's arm snapped (especially with the priest's added leg push against the sphere) so he decided to cut his losses and attempt to inflict damage in a different way.

Easing his grip on the priest's arm, Almos allowed the Sphere of Desecration to do its job and fling the priest away while dragging his claw-like fingers down the unarmored flesh. He might not have been able to tear off the limb entirely, but his vicious nails were more than capable of leaving deep lacerations across the major tendons and veins within. Considering the nature of his opponent though, a wound like that probably wouldn't end the fight but it would establish a handy timer in the vampire's favor.

For the second time in such a short span of time, Lorand had to give the man a bit of credit. The vampire honestly couldn't remember the last time that someone had attempted to use Enkidu against him. While it would have been an effective strategy with an ordinary weapon, the Bloodied Links were no normal chain. Cursed and bound to his will, the chain moved as Lorand wished it to. And so as the priest attempted to fling the length of chain around Almos' neck, it was a simple matter of willing the links to pause in mid air just short of their target. It was a respectable try, but it was also a terrible mistake on the part of the priest. This...mongrel dared to use his precious memento against him. That was a crime that could simply not be tolerated.

With his anger honed once more, Almos decided to educate the priest on how to properly wield his weapon. The clergyman's decision to hang on to Enkidu would soon prove to be his undoing as Almos sent the extra links pulled free during the noose stunt to encircle his uninjured left wrist. The vampire had no intention of allowing his opponent anytime to regroup after the surprise of Agra Mainyu so with a brutal swipe of his left arm, Almos attempted to use Enkidu to send the priest crashing into the nearest glass ad hardwood display case face first.

A blistering fire erupted within the flesh of his right arm, the vampire having loosened his grip just before the catapulting event that would send him careening down the hallway to allow the beasts nails to rip through the flesh and tear the muscles within, only serving to further ruin the usefulness of the appendage as a whole. However, even with such pain, Calce had observed the intruder with absolute clarity to see if the noose trick had actually bore fruit. Sadly, it did not, and upon the immediate realization of the chain stopping by an unseen force, the Paladin had all but instantly found the Bloodied Lengths useless and, seeing the chain's body attempt to coil towards his wrist, he had tossed the portion within his grasp to the side and jerked it's target towards his own shoulder to slip it out of the formed circle before it tightened, avoiding the attempt to constrict his remaining wrist and likely fling him about like a rag doll.

Landing on his back roughly halfway down the hall, the impact being instantly negated by the bending and pulling of his knees to his chest, allowing him to roll to the flat of his feet in a crouched position, Calce gave a cursory glance with his peripheral vision to the injured right arm he had then lifted to the side of his face, though his focus never deviated from the vampire. The creature was truly a difficult opponent, and Asinus couldn't help but mentally curse himself for his own incompetence of having underestimated the abomination, which left him with such a crippling disadvantage. Rather, that's how it appeared, anyway. Granted, the wound itself was rather serious, but if anyone thought it rendered the limb utterly useless then they were substantially wrong. "Huh. So, that happened..."

The Paladin audibly thought with a verbal quip that was oddly monotone in nature, especially for his current situation. However, all would become clear with the vivid cracking and pops of the broken fingers echoing throughout the hall. They began to move, inspite of all logical reasoning dictating they shouldn't be able to, their mangled forms coming back into place, as well as the utterly shattered wrist beginning to slowly rotate as if to loosen unseen knots within, slight grimaces of stinging pain appearing on the paladins features as a result.

It's not that he was immune to pain, but he was rather used to it given his physical preference, and the mental training bestowed upon him by stringent martial arts training further served to dull the pain. The broken bones would not heal without medical attention, nor would the deep lacerations that cut down the flesh of his arm, but the joint and digits themselves would remain useable through the simple fact of Calce willing them to move through Faeth, such was the extent of his physical enhancements granted by it.

In doing so, the left hand would reach out to take hold of the hilt of one of the his trusted blades in which he had landed beside, and the right hand would do the same to demonstrate it as not being the handicap the vampire had likely come to think it would be. The severed arteries within were beyond his control to outright stop, and the loss of blood would eventually catch up to him. However, that did not mean he couldn't mitigate the bleeding through his own physical enhancements, which was accomplished through tensing the muscles within to such a degree that they would close around the damaged veins.

Unfortunately, he could only actively function with this for around ten minutes, and thus prolonging this engagement was not an option. Bringing both of the sword blades across his chest in a battle stance akin to a giant 'X', Asinus would mentally evaluate the situation, starting with the vampires abilities and weapons that were displayed. He was obviously an expert in the use of Naether abilities, and that chain, from the feats it previously displayed, was obviously connected to those abilities. It was likely a cursed weapon saturated in Naether energy, and that meant his blades would be the perfect counter to it should the instance of them colliding occur.  

Extending the tattered, blood soaked limb with the crimson nectar dripping too the porcelain floor below and one of the horribly brutalized fingers, the rest firmly holding the hilt of the blessed blade, he would motion with it for the vampire to approach, as if unfazed and challenging the vampire to further the engagement in a manner akin to saying bring it on. In doing this, though, he would not lower his guard or focus, remaining ready to react at a moments notice.  

Spoiler:

The priest had escaped Enkidu's grasp yet again. Impressive as that may have been, Almos' opponent was far from unscathed. Even with the flow of lost blood restrained by some unknown force, the vampire guessed that the priest only had a few minutes before he succumbed to his wounds. With the timer in his favor, Almos had all the more reason to drag the fight out a bit and was happy to sit back and watch the clergyman try to make that mangled right arm of his useful once again.

"An ability that lets him keep fighting despite his wounds...how fitting." It was an almost hilariously appropriate skill for a blind servant of the "Almighty" that pushed the user onward in combat even as their own bodies begged them to stop. In any case, if the Catholic was so dedicated to being a glutton for punishment, Almos was hardly in a position to deny him.

The vampire settled his right hand on his hip and casually extended his left towards the priest to once more bring Enkidu into play. The cursed chain rose in the air like a horrible serpent before darting back into his sleeve and disappearing from sight. With his weapon returned to its resting place, Almos allowed his left arm to drop to his side, leaving him in a relaxed stance with his weight slightly forward on the balls of his heels. In stark contrast to the priest's posture of calm vigilance, the former monk held himself with an unnervingly friendly manner. His smug sneer was still in place as he cocked his head to the side ever so slightly and blew a small kiss at the True Cross operative.

The amusing thought of how cocky the vampire was acting had briefly crossed the Paladin's mind, which gave way to a small sigh as Asinus understood the reason why it had refused to be provoked by the beckoning challenge he had just offered. It was true, time wasn't on his side with the wound he was currently trying to mitigate, but to be this confident was nothing short of petty mocking. In short, it was annoying. In casual response to the vampire's mockingly childish actions, the wounded index finger that was previously beckoning the abomination towards him was replaced with an extended middle finger of crooked alignment. He had only hoped the age of the creature didn't make the meaning of the gesture unknown.

Instantly following the insulting notion, the blade held within his left hand was send careening down the hallways towards the vampires skull as nothing more than a silver, spear-like streak, the speed of which making it little more than a blur the likes of which the arm that loosed it had become during the propelling motion. Following this, taking advantage of what little of the vampires focus the lethal projectile would draw away, Calce would retrieve another of his blades with the now empty hand as he began his charge directly behind the one previously loosed, easily wrenching it from the wall it had embedded itself within previously without losing an ounce of the speed he had pushed forward with, leaving him as nothing more than a distorted figure of smudging black.

Taking into account that his airborne blade would likely be dodged, the entirety of his enhanced senses were focused on the vampires movements and where he would go, once again falling back on the pseudo-precognitive abilities that he had gained through means of reading body language. In doing so, he would bring both of the blades currently in his grasp to bare against the vampire's flesh, the following slashes of streaking silver aiming to hinder Lorand's means of maneuverability by targeting the man's legs, while the second blade would make violent sweeping arch towards his chest, intent on carving open the chest cavity in a single swing.

These attacks, while focused, were not reckless. Asinus had come to understand the dangerous abilities and tools this target had in it's possession, and he was ready to react should they once again be utilized. They were partially the reason why the Paladin had fallen back to the use of his blades in the first place, knowing their inherent ability to cleanse taint would be an effective boon against the threat he now face. The true reason, however, was that he had little time to spare now. The wounded right arm, despite being completely functional for combat, was saturated with crimson fluid and spraying mists of red with each serious movement despite the amount of pressure the tensed muscles were placing on the severed arteries and veins within. In truth, he felt as though only a few minutes would go by before blurs would distort his vision, and that alone was enough incentive for him to rely on the blessed blades had, knowing that even a glancing blow on the vampire would be rather serious.

Spoiler:

To be perfectly honest, Almos hadn't been very confident that his admittedly childish antics would have much of an effect on the paladin. The less experienced warriors, as well as some of the veterans who became a bit too conceited in the sense of superiority their Faeth abilities instilled, were easy enough to aggravate but this one seemed to be a bit different. Perhaps it was the martial arts that made the difference considering how often they advertised "self-discipline" and all that. It was because of all that, that Almos received a pleasant surprise in the form of a middle finger courtesy of the clergyman. Relishing the fact that his taunts had gotten a reaction, Lorand's smile grew even wider.

"That's it, padre. Get nice and angry and we'll see how quickly I can run you dry."

The blade thrown by the priest was indeed dodged as the clergyman may have expected. Taking a slight step to his left, Almos leaned his body out of the path of the streaking silver missile. However, rather than meeting the priest's charge head on once again, the vampire instead chose a different strategy.

He ran.

Following the momentum of his evasive maneuver, Lorand made an about face and raced down the hall in the direction he'd entered from. Judging by their slight difference in strength, Almos was betting that his speed would be a bit above the priest's or at the very least enough to maintain a distance outside the range of those sword slashes momentarily. Of course, eventually being caught was all part of the plan currently running through the vampire's mind.

In an instant the former monk reached the bend in the hallway and took the corner in a tight turn, snatching a standing flag positioned there with his left hand. To his great delight, just beyond the corner was none other than the museum administrator staring at the remains of the night watchman in absolute horror. Whether this was simply his lucky day or a twisted case of divine intervention, Almos couldn't say. Originally he had intended to use the body of the watchman for his latest scheme but a living tool was infinitely better.

Flying around the corner at a blinding speed, the vampire was upon the administrator in the blink of an eye, his right hand closing around the man's throat. His boots squeaked once as he abruptly shifted directions back towards the corner he had just cleared where the priest would likely be appearing in only a moment. Shoving the administrator forward as a human shield, Almos would thrust forward with the pointed tip of the flag as soon as the priest appeared around the bend.

Of course, a regular thrust would more than likely be countered by the clergyman's borderline supernatural reflexes as soon as he saw it coming. That is why Lorand had opted for an attack the clergyman couldn't see coming. The vampire was going to ram the flag straight through the administrator's back and out the chest to impale the oncoming paladin. Just for an added bit of security, Almos was going to add Enkidu to the mix as well, stabbing it through his meat shield in the shadow of the flag to give his True Cross friend a new hole in his stomach.

Slicing cleanly through nothing but empty space absent of his target, Calce tracked the vampires fleeing movements as he round the corner with only the starkest hints of visual surprise touching the usually stoic features of his face. It was now confirmed, without a doubt, that this creature was above him in physical capacity, even if by a slight margin, as even with all of his enhanced senses focused on the abomination to a focal point it had still managed to slip through the arching blades that meant to remove the taint of his unholy carcase and bring him death.

The question of how a vampire of such standing had even managed to get close to the Holy City, let alone slip within it's borders without being noticed, had briefly crossed his mind. Even with the majority of the True Cross' members being unable to sense unholy creatures, unlike the True Cross Champion who mastered such a technique, they were still expert hunters of the supernatural. Could it had found a breach in the city's defenses, a blind spot in the Churches ever-vigilant eye? The idea of such a thing was rather troublesome, as it meant others could also abuse it should it be re-discovered, and that was unacceptable.

He concluded that suggesting effective countermeasures against such possibilities to the upper echelons of his organization once he was finished here was the correct course of action. Then again, even if, by some random chance he did die, they would likely still be put in place given the circumstances of a Paladin being murdered, so dwelling on the topic was pointless. The idea did raise another inquiry, however, and that was why would it flee? Granted, Calce wasn't foolish enough to think the creature to actually be making an attempt at leaving the scene, but it was a curious maneuver that made him cautious. This caution forced him to abuse the lack of confrontation at the moment for his own and possibly future benefit.

The creature was obviously here for a reason, and Calce had very little time to spare and, despite his own considerable skill, he doubted he could return the abomination to dust in his current condition. So, at the very least, even if he did someone fail in doing so, he should leave the creature with a passing insult of even greater depth than a simple middle finger. Taking the opportunity of the vampire's fleeting attempts at relocation to retrieve the rest of his blades, which he did before with an impressive display of acrobatics that should have been impossible for an ordinary man possessing the injuries the he had, Calce brandished all six blades held firmly between his knuckles as he used the feats of acrobacy to propel him after the vampire.

During his pursuit, a blurred swing of his right arm would let fly one of the silver blades towards a fire alarm where it would impale the device with enough force to shatter the glass casing and sink to the hilt, which would be followed by a spatter of his own blood from the wounded throwing arm painting the surroundings. An instance later, wireless signals would be sent from the building to the local authoresses as the museum was brought to life with the annoying ringing that would ordinarily signal a blazing fire laying claim to the building, only that there was none. The more attention he could draw to the building, the higher his chances of screwing over this annoying pests goals. Especially since it was his night off...

Streaking passed the fire alarm and leaving it far behind, the Priest rounded the same corner as the vampire so as not to lose track of it. In doing so, the enhanced senses more vibrantly detected the smell of freshly spilt blood and Calce determined that it was originally the source that allowed him to find the intruder in the first place, but all thoughts about that were tossed aside as he saw the museum administrator being flung in his direction. Never put it past an asshole to use a human shield... The passing thought responded to the situation just as his body did, which was to abruptly dive to the side within roughly a foot of distance still remaining between himself and the administrator, only for the flag pole and cursed chain to tear through the poor mans body like it was paper.

And never put it past an asshole to ignore one, either! The thought, as heartless as it sounded, for he held no real love nor hate for the administrator, came to life in tandem with the blurred movement of Calce's left arm that was dictated by slaying the undead above all else, which would let loose two of the three blades within it's grasp towards the vampire's chest cavity from the side angle he now had due to the previous dive, in which he would quickly roll back to the balls of his feet in the instance after the the blades would leave his hand to put himself back into a ready position to deal with any immediate responses should they occur, and he expected them too.

Spoiler:

The priest rounded the corner just as predicted, evidently having taken care to reclaim his previously discarded blades beforehand. Unfortunately, the sly clergyman made an evasive leap a bit earlier than the vampire had expected and managed to avoid being impaled by the tip of the flag and Enkidu. Beyond just that, the obnoxiously persistent man even managed to launch counterattack in the form of another hail of blessed blades. Narrowing his gaze a bit, Almos shifted his grip on the end of the flag post to maneuver the meat shield still impaled on it in between himself and the priest's weapons. The razor sharp swords sank deep into the administrator's torso, cutting off any remaining shreds of consciousness the poor man might have had.

Paying no mind to the blaring fire alarm in the background, Almos decided to press the offensive a bit. Most people in his position would have likely abandoned the flag and body once the initial surprise attack had failed. However, Almos Lorand was not most people and if fighting like a madman is what it took to throw this priest off his game, then the vampire was more than happy to play along.

The former monk advanced upon the priest, closing the distance before making another thrust with the brass tipped point of the flag even as the deceased administrator flailed limply midway down the shaft. Never one to be satisfied with a singular attack, Almos decided to get a little more creative. As he thrust forward with the makeshift spear, the vampire violently wrenched one of the blessed bladed free of his body by the hilt with his right hand. Immediately, pain shot through the vampire's arm as the blessings burned at the skin of his hand but it was a burden he could tolerate for at least a short while. Certainly long enough to make a powerful downward swing aimed at bisecting the priest from the shoulder to hip.

If the blow did not land home, Almos was hoping that their difference in strength would encourage the priest to use both of his sword arms to block. Then at the very least Lorand could try and rack up a bit of damage to the blades still held by the priest but more important was the potential draw on the clergyman's attention. Even as the vampire advanced the offensive with melee tactics, Enkidu would gradually be drifting lower and to the right out of the priest's immediate field of vision and the far more pressing assault from the front. Almos had learned his lesson ater the True Cross operative had avoided the Bloodied Links last time and ensured that the cursed chain remained taught to avoid unnecessary clinking that may once again tip off his prey. Lorand wanted to ensure as much surprise as possible when the spiked tip of the chain thrusted towards the priest's kidney from five o clock in tandem with his downward sword swing.

Stoic in the general sense, the only form of expression that rested on his features was a questioning brow that had been quirked, as if the act of the vampire using the body against him was an accusation of some sort. If the creature thought using such a tactic would unnerve him, then he had another thing coming in that regard. Asinus, amongst most of the members within the True Cross, was one of the most detached individuals in their ranks. This emotional distance allowed him to work more efficiently than most, simply because he lacked hesitation when faced with situations like the one the abomination before him was presenting.

In fact, so composed was Calce that each of the forward thrusts the vampire responded with was skillfully parried by the blades he still held in his grasp as he slowly retreated, remaining on the balls of his feet in the process and never on his heels. The singular left blade, having been flipped into a reverse grip within the uninjured hand, was used to deflect the incoming motions of piercing intent to the sides in a manner that seemed almost casual to the Paladin's skillful use of a blade. The two blades within the injured-yet-functioning-right hand, still held between the fingers like a pair of ravenous claws, functioned relatively the same but with the aspect of catching the spear tip between the two blades and forcing it off course with a turn of the wrist.

The vampires final thrust was met with the response of the left blade, only for Calce to take notice of the vampire wrenching free one of the previously thrown blades in an attempt to use it against it's owner. The Paladin had been gradually retreating under the makeshift spears assault, not because he was forced to but because it allow him to keep optimal space between himself and the enemy in order to observe. Using this to his advantage, Calce easily noticed the bloodied chain slipping out along the floor in his peripheral vision despite the lackluster display of poor spearmanship on the vampire's part.

Acting immediately to the downward strike the vampire had begun, Asinus simply took a half-step backwards, the action allowing him to sway just enough out of the blades reach for it to harmlessly slice naught but air, and spun on the heels of his shoes at the same time in anticipation for the cursed chains likely assault. The force of this spin would bring the left and right blade's to their appointed destinations. The left blade of Calce's would swing around behind him in a sweeping slash to intercept and knock the chain off course with expert precision, and disperse the taint coating the lengths to render them into nothing but ordinary metal segments.

The two blades in his right hand, acting as a pair of claws would, at the same time, catch the makeshift spear tip between them and, with a twist of his wrist to secure the grip of the blades to the pole, would force it up and to the left to throw the vampire off balance with the corpse having free influence over the poles weight distribution. This action, which would move the impeding corpse out of the direct path and no longer make it useful as a shield, would give Calce the opening he needed to lift his right leg and thrust it outwards towards the vampires stomach with the same bone breaking force all of his other strikes had been backed with, aiming to launch the vampire across the room into one of the glass display cases against the far wall.

Spoiler:

And once more the vampire's assault was checked by the priest's superior grasp on martial arts. It was a rather frustrating experience but not one that was wholly unexpected. Almos was, of course, a realist. To believe that he would be able to easily best this man in close combat would be no less foolish than trying to out play a professional musician. Unfortunately for the priest, Almos had far more at his disposal than simple martial arts.

With his three point assault beaten, Lorand decided to once again change tactics. His makeshift spear was promptly abandoned as soon as the priest caught it between his blessed blades. It was summarily flung aside and out of immediate reach but Almos' balance remained intact. That being said, at this range he very much doubted that he would be able to parry the priest's kick with his free hand. With this in mind, the vampire decided to not even try. As the priest brought his leg into chamber, the former monk released his hold on the blessed blade, tossing it into the air between himself and the priest. It was however, not an attack in its own right. The abandoned sword hung in midair from the toss, chest high and parallel to the floor with the tip pointed at its original owner as the clergyman's devastating kick started to come in, passing under the blade on a beeline for Almos' stomach.

For the briefest moment in time, it would appear that the vampire's defenses had finally been penetrated by the master of martial arts but that was not to be the case. Once again utilizing the wrathful power contained within his brands, Almos summoned his Sphere of Desecration. The crimson orb would expand to its full size instantly, repelling everything holy in its path in the process. The rapid expansion of unholy territory would drive that floating sword forward like a piston, propelling it straight towards the clergyman's center mass.

Of course, the priest himself would not be able to avoid the force of Angra Mainyu any better than his sword. Standing on one leg in order to deliver his kick, there would be no braced stances to bless him with even a moment's respite this time. Beyond just that, the clergyman's subtle backpedaling would also now come back to haunt him. Since their engagement began with Almos' human shield assault, the priest had been steadily moving retreating to bat aside the thrusts like child's play. The problem with that was that they had been battling in the corner of the square hallway encircling this floor of the museum. That meant that there would be no long flight through thin air leading to skillful tumbling, as there was only a short distance remaining between the clergyman and the nearby wall at his back. Blasted back into the hard wall with the force of Angra Mainyu was enough of a debilitating injury but the driven sword that would likely pin the priest there like a grotesque piece of art was certainly the icing on the cake.

The blazing red luminescence of the crimson sphere had once again shone upon him, and at that moment Calce had finally realized his folly to the point of momentary surprise enveloped his usually stoic features. He was mistaken. The entire time he was mistaken, for he believed that level of Naether technique required a much longer period of cooldown between it's uses, yet it had only been maybe a few minutes since he had last been faced with it. Regretfully, his own casual approach to situations despite knowing their danger had been his own downfall, which was rather ironic considering that line about pride leading to ones downfall being in the very holy book his organization, and he by extension, loved to preach.

The powerful kick had impacted the sphere, and the expected result the Paladin knew well enough from his previous exposure to it had launched him like a bullet towards the wall merely a few meters behind him. It wasn't enough space to grant an airborne recovery, even for someone of his skill, and the resulting impact against the wall resounded with an audible crack of bone. What followed this was quite the gruesome aspect, as the very sword the Paladin had used to slay so many others had bounced off of the very same red sphere an instant after he did. Calce barely had time to open his eyes from the impact before the sharp pain of a blade running him through pierced his chest.

Lowering his gaze to the staple that now pinned him to the wall, blood began to flow from the corner of his lips from the internal damage, and the blades that were held in his hands had been released, where they clanged against the tile floor. The lifeless eyes of Asinus Calce, staring blankly at the hilt of his once trusted weapon, had ceased movement, and the hands that painstaking attempted to grab hold of the handle to remove it had fallen to his sides. He was dead, now a new grotesque display of the museum. However, given the blade length, it would not keep him suspended for very long under the dead weight of a heavily built corpse and gravity acting upon it. It would eventually topple to the floor in a bloody mess, if left alone.

Spoiler:

And there it was, the satisfying rush of exhilaration when the struggles of the pious finally faded in the face of his wrath. Cocking his head to the side once more with his sneer in place, the vampire made sure to remain within the priest's line of sight as the world began to fade so that his insulting wave goodbye would be the last sight to grace the clergyman's consciousness. Sauntering up to the lifeless body, the former monk looked over his work with a sick amusement as he wrapped his chain around his forearm manually. The persistent bastard had disturbed the curse placed upon Enkidu with those blades of his. It was annoying to be sure, but it would be a relatively simply process to reapply the curse once he was safely out of Rome.

However, regardless of whether or not the repair process was simple, Lorand couldn't help but sneak in a little more payback in retaliation for the priest's efforts. The vampire's long claw-like hands racked their way down the dead man's torso, leaving four parallel gashes deep enough to reach the former holy man's gullet before continuing downward to slice through the waist line and belt of his trousers. Turning from the grizzly scene, Almos chuckled as he heard the sound of the priest's trousers hit the museum floor following swiftly by a handful of his entrails.

"That poor janitor," the vampire mused as he made his way back down the hallway towards his prize, pausing only to wipe his hand clean on another display flag. Thankfully, the carnage of the battle had not reached the display case containing the letter Almos had desired so strongly and his own reflection smiled back up at him in the polished glass. Or at least it did before a swift blow from the vampire's fist shattered it and laid claim upon the plastic bound letter. Turning it over in his hands, Almos allowed himself only a moment to savor the feel of it before stuffing it into his inner breast pocket and making his way towards the nearest exit. That alarm had been going off for far too long. There was no telling how long he had at this point before more unwanted visitors arrived.

Spoiler:

Anthony had been walking that night, no where near where he soon would be, but it had been a nice night, and the sunset had been lovely to look at. He breathed in the cool nights air deeply and for a while he had turned his mind to think of the current position the world's affairs were in. It hadn't been good for a while now. He wondered how Veronica's most recent mission went. She had been sent to fight quite the monster, and should be back by now. He would need to ask her for a report soon if she was up for it.

Not that that would be enough to ease his mind any, on the contrary it would more than likely push it once more closer to the negative. This job weighed heavily on him, it would on any reasonable humans shoulders but something was amiss lately, even more so than usual. Something was not right with the world itself, it was almost like it was sick. This disease manifested itself in the night as evil and horror, straight from nightmares.

This had always been the case of course, but, it had never been this bad in the past. At least, this bad in the past that he remembered. Was it truly that things were getting worse? Or was age just making softer? Anthony scowled at these thoughts, they were much to sentimental to a killer, at least, a man playing at being a killer. He never understood the joy that some of his men took in killing vampires and demons. Sure, it was nice that they were defeated, that justice had been done onto them. But was it not a tragedy in itself that this needed to be done in the first place? Wasn't that monster once a man like the rest of them? It always seemed that no matter how many people died at the hands of these beasts that there was always one murder that was left unaccounted for.

That murder was the murder of the former man, not the vampire who had been turned, but in the act of getting turned in itself, that, that was the stopping of an innocent heart, that was the death of a little bit of good in the world, that was the death of just a little more hope. How much more could this world loose of that, and yet still be a suitable place for human beings?

Anthony didn't know, and he prayed that he would not be allowed to find out. He would rather die than see the die where that line was finally crossed in his world. Depressingly enough he knew that if such a thing did happen it would fall on his shoulders to lead the fight to reclaim this world for good.

That thought scared him more than any monster ever could.

That sound...Anthony had heard that sound many times before, it was an alarm. A loud one by the looks of things. Something was happening, in his city. He turned around nearly instantly and looked for the cause of this siren, he could not find it in his immediate proximity, so he opted to use his pages to carry himself to th orphanage first, make sure it was ok.

When Anthony arrived he saw that it was dark, and that it was fine to the naked eye. But still that sound, those horrible sounds they came from somewhere, somewhere close by. Anthony burst in to the orphanage and seeing one of the clergy up at this time, a night guard who had undoutably been hearing the same siren look at him for a command.

Without missing a beat Anthony said to him.

"The children, get the children to safety, and set off the alarms here and at HQ. This is not a drill."

Anthony waisted no time in lingering there as he stopped for one look at Head Quarters, that too was fine, and he didn't need to go in, this was were the soldiers were, they could handle themselves, he had upmost faith in them, and knew that the alarms in there would be set off soon enough.

Continuing his frantic search of the area through his scripture Anthony's heart began to pound in his chest rapidly and loudly. If not the orphanage, or HQ, then what was under attack? He soon had his answer, with each building hop the lights grew brighter and alarm louder, with his third jump he knew that he had reached his destination. The Museum.

Why here? The thought ran through his mind only just, because as he sniffed the air and looked at the ground he picked up the irony smell, and the dark splotch against the ground near the entrance which was enhanced all the more by the red lights blaring all around the premises.

Anthony's breathing regulated, his mind cleared. His heart hardened. There was an enemy about, they had already drawn blood, and they were close to the orphanage. Too close, as far as Anthony was concerned. Whoever dared to bring danger here so close to the children under the care of his order would soon regret that decision. Monster or not, tonight they fear for their wretched miserable lives.

Anthony pulled out his gun just in time to see the creature running out of the building, he didn't have time to hide from him, he doubted that would have made much difference anyways. Anthony smiled, this creature was a fool to have come in here and drawn so much attention to himself.

Anthony could never have been accused of having waisted a single heartbeat in combat, and this would be no exception. As the vampire came out of the doorway Anthony launched a flurry of pages towards him, much like a large fist, these glowed brightly as they neared him and illuminated the area even more so for his attack.

The times he had fought against creatures like these was almost uncountable, and he knew the ground was in his favor tonight. Enclosed areas were terrible for monster hunting, it was best to be out in the open but still have some options left for you when you needed them. Just like what was available to him now. The pages would make their attempt at a collision a little ways outside of the area of the doorway. The vampire was to fast, it was unfortunate that he wouldn't have enough room to make the connection while he was trapped in side those walls. But alas beggers can't be choosers.

Even if he wasn't the most blatantly powerful fighter out there, he had something considerably more valuable than that, and this, was experience. Enough so to outrun the devil in his opinion, and that was why his pages would not be but a blind show of power and even more blind brute force like strike against this creature. No, they would come in from the left and expand around that way too, making it a folly option to turn that way if this creature wanted to avoid the pages. Quite obviously the front would be the worst way to go in order to dodge this attack, it would be directly into the swarm of blessed scripture, leaving the only reasonable option the right.

Shooting straight is what he would do, obviously. For if these creatures were anything, anything at all, it most certainly not reasonable. No they thought they were so clever, with their ability to take pain, they thought that just because they were to strong to surrender to the kiddy stuff that they had bested their opponents. That just because something that worked on other vampires didn't work on them it meant they were not only inherently superior to the others of their kind but their old attackers as well. Unlucky for them, they were not, and luckily for him. He was not foolish enough to assume that any low level monster would be skilled enough to break in here, and successfully steal from this museum. No, maybe he hadn't expected this at all, but he knew that if it did happen it wouldn't be some new pup, it would a big dog, that, was why his single middle shot would go in to the deluge of blessings not over. Currently raining down upon the monster who thought that he could just barrel his way out this like a madman. But thats what they were after all, madmen, the lot of them. For more reasons than could be counted this blood thirsty hellish fiends were not just prone to violence but also were just generally insane. There was always something, always something to set each one apart from the last, but yet in the end put them all together in to just one big pile of hatred, hatred and exuberance of emotion, over abundance in everything they did.

Truly these creatures not only lacked humanity but subtlety as well, probably in just as great amounts as the other. Strange for a creature breaking in to a museum to more than likely steal something, strange because this city housed the greatest of hope for humanity, the greatest of it's light, that which truly embraced man and helped them become what they had always been destined to be. Stranger still the museum, housing art, art the very expression of one of the most beautiful qualities these creatures had given up, subtlety. The beauties and the joys of quiet pondering, and the fruits of patient skill. In short these beasts were disgusting.

However if such notions and thoughts struck a cord with Anthony at the moment and distracted any bit of attention from his target was not visible in his physical features. Not visible in any way as he side stepped the doubtless thrown object of his opponent, which he imagines that he had been saving for just such an occasion as this when he came out of the museum. Anthony wasn't sure what it would be, in fact he wasn't sure if it would come at all, but he knew enough to expect it, and the only way he could probably dodge it was by knowing it would come before hand. He had more than enough time to whisk himself away on the blessings of scriptures at the moment, but only in the case of a melee, the missile weapon truly could have thrown him off, destroyed his entire battle strategy. He did not intend to let it.

Though he side stepped he made sure not to let this ruin his focus either, maintaining his calm and his vigilance throughout all the process, ready at the moments notice to spring back in to action of whatever kind he needed to stay alive for this fight. Come and get it you damned creature. Anthony thought to himself.

Spoiler:

Spoiler:

The vampire flew down the stairs of the museum en route to the main entrance, pausing only to rip that damnable fire alarm from the wall to silence its blaring signal before eventually skidding to a halt at the closed wooden doors. A pale hand closed around the polished handle and swiftly opened the nearest door to effectuate his escape from this insufferable building and eventually the "holy city" beyond its walls. Almos stood in the open doorway for a moment to survey the area. His swift visual inspection confirmed that the fire department had not yet arrived on the scene. However, the vampire was not quite alone. Specifically, a dark haired priest stood in the open lawn in the front of the museum. Evidently a rather trigger happy member of the esteemed True Cross, the clergyman wasted no time in flinging a literal fist of Gospel pages directly at the fleeing vampire.

Rather than pointlessly try to force his way through the oncoming flurry of blessed parchment, Almos decided to simply work his way around the attack entirely. Evasion was a simple process, with the vampire simply option to not leave the museum just yet. Instead, he simply continued moving to his right in the hallway encircling the first floor of the building, thereby evading the holy fist crashing through the thin air he had once inhabited as well as any other surprises the priest might have put in place. For the moment, there was no reason to engage this clergyman on open ground in the middle of Vatican City. It would draw far too much attention from any other paladins stationed nearby and quite honestly, it was more effort than it was worth when he could simply draw his newest foe into the building for a little more intimacy. Failing that, there was always the option to simply escape.

Spoiler:

Back in to the museum, that was where he had opted to go. Fine by him, it would make things easier in the long run, and he would either force this vampire to flee or he would kill him. Preferably kill him, as that would just end this nuisance here and now, but, if he made him flee away from the orphanage that would enough of a victory too.

Anthony saw the creature dive right and inside of the museum to avoid his attacks, and decided to pursue him steadily. Paging to his own scattered pages and collecting them in to his cassock via his faeth. Anthony in his let hand pulled out his combat blade the handle of which a few pages of scripture decided to wrap around. He smiled again, you know there was nothing like a vampire hunt to clear ones mind.

Now near the entrance the last of his pages shined a light as they rose in the air and stayed there, he breathed evenly as he entered, the creature was still on the first floor which means that it wasn't like his head was about to get split so he didn't need to detract his attention from where he saw the vampire go. Gun at the ready, in hand. He waded in to the dark, much like one swimming in to a sharks nest.

Moving through the first floor hallway, Almos rounded the nearest corner with a right hand turn. The doorway to the larger display room in the center of the floor was just up ahead and Almos quickly put a plan together. With a forceful shoulder charge, the vampire blew open the double doors to the main display room and scanned his surroundings. A large square room filled with various items of historical value but devoid of any supernatural power. Beyond their historical value though, the displays had the potential to serve as excellent hiding spots to lie in wait for the clergyman.

However, Almos would not be making use of them just yet. Instead, the vampire hoisted himself up using the door frame and sank his fingers into the wall just above the open doorway. With his feet planted against the wall and one arm holding himself aloft like some twisted impersonation of Spiderman, Almos was happy to wait for the priest's arrival. Judging from the sounds of the footsteps ringing in his ears, the clergyman had decided to follow him in after all.

Perfect.

The door beneath Lorand was the only way into the display room from that side of the building and with his current position, the Catholic would need to crane his neck and look directly upwards to catch sight of the vampire. Checking the corners when one entered a room was standard enough but it never ceased to surprise him how rarely people checked for danger directly overhead. Of course, even if this priest did attempt to do so, Almos had no intention of allowing him any opportunity to mount a proper offensive. The moment that the priest crossed the threshold into the room, the former monk would drop down behind him from his perch overhead to lay both hands upon his head and snap the holy man's neck with a violent twist.

He fled from him, but Anthony was not elated at the thought of monsters running from him, nor was his confidence bolstered by such an event. He was aware that this was merely a ploy to lead him in to the room and probably slay him from there.

In fact, with the crashing of the first doors as they were burst open, and then the perpetual silence broken only by his footsteps, he knew for a fact that he lie in wait ready to strike at him. But upon coming to sight of the doors Anthony knew that there was no way he would be able to find this out. There were to many items in the room, too much space, too much cover, just a split second waisted would probably spell out death for him.

But luckily for him, the vampire would probably be expecting him to enter from the only available door. Technically he would, but not in the way he expected. Besides that, there were other doors here that could be utilized. He was willing to bet that this creature had only prepared for the one of them. Had only decided to shield himself from view of just one of these doors, and that one, was more likely than not the open door. Even if he hand't it's not like he'd be loosing out on any advantage in going through with his plans.

The way Anthony was facing this room, the entrance in front of him, he knew that there was another door in the room to his right. This lead to another hallway, that led to more places in the museum. One of which was another hallway wrapping around and coming back to the hallways behind him before he turned right, it lead out. That was duly noted. So to, was the bench in the hallway.

Anthony having visited this place a few times before now in all his years of living here was actually rather glad of the vampires choice in terrain, this was his home, his turf. He had the upper hand in this category at least.

His pages surrounded him and enveloped him rolling out of his cassock in more of a blur than a flurry. Taking him on the wings of the spirit where he willed then in hardly any time at all. Such was the blessings of faeth that he could accomplish not only this feat but a few others as well in a very short amount of time, yet still remain vigilant and battle ready for his surroundings.

His pages carried him past the entrance to the door and through the room sliding underneath, through, and over the door with both supernatural speed and accuracy, letting him materialize, at least in a bodily manner outside of this door at a decent distance, close but hopefully not to close. As this happened the pages that finished their original task would wrap around the bench to his side and in a like manner they would carry this, though in a very much solid form, flying in to the doors and breaking them open.

This bench would fly in straight but as the doors broke it would continue to sail at a slight angle until it evened out and was no longer going for a ram like destruction of what was in front of it, so much as it was intended to destroy all in it's path when it turned to its side. If not destroy, push or shove, knock over, move out of the way in short. Basically all manner of hiding places within the length of the bench as it burst in to the room were null and void, within the area of his bench of course.

This put Anthony outside of the room, opened one of the doors for him, destroyed many of the hiding places within this room, at least, within the path of destruction his bench had created, and allowed him a view of this room safely at a different angle. Anthony let a few of these pages decorate the room, and the hallway, these would come in handy if he needed to use an emergency barrier, or this vampire had some form of tricky sorcery up his sleeve.

Knife placed in the wall to his left a little bit in front of him, Anthony kept his gun at the ready still, waiting for any sign of the demon. True this time around he had failed to see the creature like he had wanted. But there was only so many places he could hide, Anthony just wished he could seal this place off with barriers and call it a day, cut off his only escape. But alas, his foe was more likely than not above such a thing.

Anthony would wait, see if this creature decided to show itself, then play his hand if he did. But if he didn't, Anthony would have to try this again, see if he couldn't destroy every inch of hiding places inside this room. Soon or later, one of them would have to snap, given Anthony's current position, he doubted that it would be him. Sadly enough, the once only available exit was probably a prime candidate as an escape route for this creature. Anthony would have to be cautious following that.

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Much to Almos' enjoyment, the priest had elected to make a rather flashy entrance into the display room through the use of his blessed Gospel pages.  While even Lorand had to admit that Faeth abilities were formidable when properly polished, they had a tendency to instill their users with horrendous senses of invulnerability.  Unfortunately for them, Faeth was powerful, but not invincible.

As the glowing parchment began to move through the doorway, the vampire immediately dropped from is perch on the wall above.  Just before making contact with the disgusting, Faeth-fueled pages, the former monk would once again deploy his Sphere of Desecration.  In much the same way that he had down in the martial artist just a few moments ago, Almos was intent on taking advantage of the space around himself and his opponent to weaponize his normally defensively oriented shield.  

Angra Mainyu itself was a wondrous technique due to its ability to repel all that which traced its origin back to the "almighty" deity of the Christian religion.  However, it became especially entertaining depending upon what the opponent was being repelled into.  In the case of the martial artist, the man had the unfortunate pleasure of being slammed against a wall.  Coming in from above, the cloud of glowing paper carrying the priest was the only thing in between Almos and the finely polished marble floor of the display room.  Unleashing the full repulsive power of Angra Mainyu directly on top of the clergyman's spiritual transportation device, Lorand would grind the entire cloud into hardened floor.  

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