Frenchy French Monastery (Almos Mission)

I beautiful, rustic old Buddhist monastery, located in the most logical location of Sant’Antonino, France. The monks go about their day tending the gardens, wearing berets, and eating baguettes. The building itself is simply built, with only a single floor and various rooms for monk-like activities. Truly, it was a peaceful, joyous existence. Nothing could possible go wrong here.

The vampire's temporary diversion to the north had been incredibly beneficial for several reasons but two in particular stood out from the rest. First was the obvious benefit of making it that much more difficult for any priests that might be on his trail to track him to his real destination. The second benefit was more to Almos' state of mind. The opportunity to temporarily cut loose and truly revel in his darker interests had served to relax the vengeful vampire and refocus him towards his ultimate goal. Walking up the stone stairs to the immaculate temple, the former monk felt oddly light and content with his own state of being despite his plans to violently massacre a group of holy men in the very near future.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Lorand removed his hands from his pockets and placed them flush against the large wooden doors of the temple before pushing them open with one smooth motion. To the credit of the monks, the doors did not release a cliche groan upon being opened. Clearly it was a sign that these holy men respected their temple enough to actually take proper care of it. Now that was the kind of dedication that Almos could respect. Or at least it would be if he really had much respect for anything. Unfortunately for the monks, Lorand had no intention of allowing them to live simply because they were a cleanly lot.

The only monk inside the temple itself was an elderly gentleman sweeping the floor. The others were off doing their thing around the grounds. From the moment this creature stepped inside the temple, he was aware something was wrong. Could it be a jiangshi? That would be odd, considering its manner of dress and the fact it moves in the sunlight. Either way, its miasma was enough to choke him from across the room. Regardless, it was not his prerogative to judge those who enter their holy grounds. Perhaps it was intending to make peace with itself and pass on.

"I welcome you, traveler," he greeted in immaculate French with a hand-clasped bow. "What business do you have with our temple today?" He was hopeful of the best, but prepared for the worst. He'd lived a long life and was more than familiar with unholy creatures. The reality was that this one could be (and probably was) no different from the rest, and would attempt to corrupt this place and kill his disciples.

Fingers once again slipping into the front pockets of his trousers, the vampire stepped forward into the temple proper. Though there was only a single monk in sight, Lorand could hear the others milling about in the surrounding temple grounds. Hopefully he'd be able to finish this up without drawing too much attention from the rest of the peanut gallery but it didn't seem like anything the former monk would be unable to handle. The younger men going about their daily chores lacked the presence of power that seemed to accompany truly experienced or talented exorcists. In fact, they didn't even seem as impressive as the page wielding imbecile he'd polished the floor tiles with back in Rome. The exception to that assessment was, of course, the more seasoned monk who had politely greeted him already. However lacking his associates might have been, this man's eyes clearly held a spark of recognition at Lorand's arrival.

"He's probably already figured out I'm not human," the vampire concluded, gradually closing the distance between them with a nonthreatening gait until both were within the circular prayer hall. Admittedly a bit of a hypocrite, Almos disliked it when others were able to so easily read is nature despite taking great pride in possessing the ability himself. He would have to keep something special in mind for this one's death when the time came.

As expected, the monk was speaking in perfect French. Though Almos had picked up a few languages over the decades through conventional means, French was not among them. Luckily, his vampiric nature carried a few benefits which had allowed the former Christian to cheat the system just a bit. Even if he hadn't studied French, quite a few of the people he'd devoured over the years had and with their collective memories swirling around in the recesses of his mind, the vampire would be able to have a passable conversation.

"Honestly, I'm here looking for a section of "Mimir's Well." If you'd be so kind as to hand it over, I'll be on my way," the vampire said, in passable French. He didn't even try to conceal his intentions from the monk at this point. His hatred for liars aside, he doubted any attempt at deception would fail before the monk's keen eye. Better to be straightforward and just get on with it.

He breathed a heavy sigh. Whatever it intended to do here, the ramifications of it leaving would be even worse. "If you know of that item, then you should also be aware it is not for us to possess." He knew from personal experience that no good could come of trying to seek out the end of that map. He hoped he'd turn back now, but that seemed unlikely.

He placed his hands together. "If you have any other business here, I will be happy to give you assistance, but I request you leave if this is not the case." Prepared for the unfortunate route of combat, he just wished this creature would leave them in peace.

As the monk made his reply, the vampire began to nod along dutifully. He'd heard speeches like this often enough that he could almost guess the monk's next line before it was even spoken but the slight language barrier was interfering with Lorand's ability to make a verbal nuisance of himself for the moment. When he was finally free of the verbal slog that comprised the holy man's "oh so wise" advice, Almos ran his fingers through his hair, fixing several locks back into place but once again failing to tame that stubborn bundle in the very front.

His preferred hairstyle once again styled to perfection, the vampire shortened the distance between himself and the monk once more, trying his level best to appear nonthreatening. "I agree. It isn't for you to possess so I am going to take it." He paused just outside of arm's reach from the elderly holy man, both hand now out of his pockets. "I'll give you credit for trying to keep this friendly. It's much more than most of the priest's I've fought can say but in the end they all had the same notion that's going through your head right now."

Raising his arms, Almos made a placating gesture with his palms facing towards the ceiling. "Divine power didn't save them and I don't think you're dumb enough to believe you're any different. Give me what I want and I'll go away. Fight me on this I won't stop with just you." The vampire flicked his head towards the faint sounds of other monks in the far corners of the grounds. "I'll torture them. I'll break them. And I will twist their souls into nightmares before I kill them." Though the former monk lowered his right arm to his side, he kept the left up, palm outstretched and ready to receive the scroll.

"Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else," he began. "You are the one who gets burned. I know not what adversities have plagued you during your lifetime, but I will not allow you to harm others because of them." A gold aura began to swirl around the monk, quickly spreading to the entire room. "Forty-Nine Days to Enlightenment!" he called, transforming the entire room into a peaceful meadow shadowed under a bodhi tree.

The holy man had worked for many years to develop this technique with the teachings of his faith. This was more than a mere illusion, as the vampire could cast. Drawing onto a reserve of power from within himself, he constructed a mental space for the two to do battle in. As he abhorred violence, this space trapped the two in a shared consciousness to do as they pleased without physically harming each other or the temple grounds. In addition, the highly spiritual nature of the place would serve to dampen any corrupt spells the monster could cast.

"Prepare yourself, demon." Though no damage could be done in this place, mental anguish would still take affect, as would an artificial sense of pain from any wounds. In essence, the winner of this fight would exhaust the other enough to physically overpower them with little effort in the real world.

(OOC) The monk is using a form of Space Magic contracted by his faith to create a pocket dimension for their minds to fight in. Any damage will feel real, even though they can't physically harm each other in there. Whoever would win here will cause the other to weaken enough to be able to win in the real world.

Almos' healing factor goes down half a level because the entire dimension is composed of holy energy. His magic is also weaker and less effective here.

And then came the poetic comparisons. Just when the old man was finally starting to tread new ground by actually engaging in a bit of conversation, he had to go and dive right back into the same cliches that everyone else tried to use on the fallen monk. In his more private (not to mention bored) moments, the vampire would occasionally wonder whether these holy men honestly believed that they would be able to win him over using flowery imagery or if it was just another excuse to flex their own pretentious natures. Considering his own experience with them, more often than not the vampire settled on the latter answer.

Cheesy advice aside, Almos couldn't deny that the monk's latest trick was rather impressive. Though it appeared to be in a similar category as his own Inferno ritual, the monk's invocation had an altogether different feeling to it. This was likely no mere illusion but it was still a bit early to start making conclusions on exactly what it was. That could wait until the old man was comfortably twisted into a twitching meat pretzel.

Though his left elbow dropped to his side as he glanced around the painfully peaceful realm he'd been pulled into, Almos kept his hand extended in a position to receive his scroll. "Well this is n-" Lorand began, intent on sending a few verbal daggers at the man's obvious devotion to his fellow monks. However, as much fun as that would have been, ending the fight early would be far more entertaining and so in the midst of his sentence, the cursed chain Enkidu shot forth from its hiding place within his sleeve like a bullet from the barrel of a rifle. Having gradually shortened the distance between himself and the priest to just over arm's reach during the course of their conversation, Lorand was quite relieved to see that though the environment around them had changed, there didn't appear to be any shift in their positions relative to one another. That short distance, combined with the abruptness of the sneak attack would hopefully be enough to land a decisive opening blow against the monk, spearing him through the chest before methodically lacing Enkidu's spiked head back and forth through the holy man's torso.

From the moment the vampire had foolishly given him time to prepare, this fight had been won. As much as he wished to avoid violence, he had no choice but to protect himself and the others of his monastery. His hand clasp was the easiest way for him to activate his abilities, and his hands had been clasped for quite a while now.

The chain would bounce harmlessly away from him, another golden barrier already expanding around the monk. This one was unlike the one to create their space, though. It moved slower, more deliberately. It would still push the monster away as any good barrier should, but it had another purpose. It rose in height, some 10 meters up, completely surrounding the man and raising him into the air within the center.

"Daibutsu!" he called, the barrier forming into the shape of a man, its features forming as its left hand moved horizantal, index finger and thumb touching. Robes appeared on the body as the right hand raised vertical, fingers extended save for the middle which touched the thumb. As the name suggested, it was a spiritual statue of the Buddha himself.

With a turning golden circle about its back falling into place, its right hand clasped into a fist, bringing it straight down at the vampire. As it was, the entire statue was a barrier. Not only would the mass of it be able to turn the undead creature's bones to a fine powder, the repelling holy forces would drive it into the ground on contact.

(OOC) Daibutsu has level 3 strength and 2 agility and reflexes. Durability is currently at 5, but falls by half a point every 3 posts, since casting the barrier and creating the space takes its toll on the monk. Touching the barrier barehanded is not advised, but damage could potentially accelerate it breaking apart.

Despite his attempts to end the battle early with a surprise attack, Almos' Enkidu was deflected from its intended course by a newly summoned barrier. Narrowing his gaze, Lorand hopped backward to avoid the rapidly expanding barrier but much to his surprise, the new holy construct continued to rise skyward and take on human form. Even as he mentally chided himself for letting the monk live long enough to summon this thing, the Hungarian vampire couldn't help but grin at this recent development. The old man had officially put to bed any doubts that Almos might have still harbored regarding his skills. The monk was by far the most developed exorcist Lorand had ever encountered outside of the True Cross.

Both hands free of his pockets and his body set in an athletic three point stance, Almos was fully prepared for whatever the monk had planned with his shiny new goliath. Rolling to his left, the vampire narrowly avoided the giant's fist crashing down on the space he had inhabited just a moment before. Rising to his feet with a spin, the former monk lashed out with his cursed chain once again. However, rather than attempt to spear through the Buddha in what would almost certainly be a wasted effort, Lorand whipped the bloodied links across the giant's chest with a backhand swipe before striking at its midsection a final time with the return stroke as Enkidu returned to its starting position curled around the vampire's wrist. Using his beloved chain as if it were a whip, Almos was attempting to wear down the monk's defenses through a series of smaller strikes. Regardless of the old man's talent, there was no way he could keep all these high level rituals going indefinitely. It would only be a matter of time before that giant collapsed and with it, all the monk's hopes of victory and survival.

The meager attacks did little to the overall stability of his shield. However, he would have to end this more quickly. The vampire's speed was too much for his daibutsu form. Straightening its back, the barrier's hands moved horizontal and made a space between them, a glowing afterimage in their wake as they moved. "Four Noble Truths!" the monk declared, the ground rumbling beneath the two. Four pillars of earth at the perimeter of the space rose from the ground, stretching into the sky above them. "Life is suffering," he began, roots exploding from the columns and moving at breakneck speed towards the vampire's position, following him.

(OOC) One turn down. Damage did little due to the small amount and high durability.

The latest strike from Enkidu having done no visible damage to the hulking construct of faeth, Lorand was forced to reconsider his offensive options. "I'll have to hit it with something harder without touching the damn thing," the vampire silently concluded, his mind racing for a viable means of inflicting significant damage to the monk. As if on cue, the talented holy man began a renewed offensive, displaying yet another facet of his already flexible power set. Remaining on guard while the goliath's arms moved through the air, Almos took a quick glance around the surrounding area while the pillars of earth rose skyward. With the addition of these new constructs, the mental gears in Lorand's mind clicking into place and the vampire charged the holy man's giant while taking care to avoid any pesky swipes of the behemoth's arms. He couldn't afford to take any wayward blows before reaching position.

Leaping towards the construct's chest, Lorand found himself adrift in midair just before the holy man as the roots from the towers of earth descended upon him. Though madness for some, it was all part of the plan created within the mind of the vengeful former monk. In the moment before the roots crashed into Lorand from behind, the vampire deployed his own naether construct in the form of his sphere of desecration. Somewhat weakened within this spiritual plane, Lorand doubted that his shield would be able to violently repel the faeth charged roots but that too was part of his overall goal. With the roots at his back violently crashing into his spherical shield in midair, the Sphere of Desecration would be launched forward directly into the chest of the giant before him like a massive cannon ball.

(OOC) Turn count jumped to 4 because of sphere hit. Durability now 4.5.

That unholy sphere came smashing into the construct's chest. Both forces pushed at each other, neither willing to relent. However, the vampire had spelled his own doom with this tactic. Using its own body as a barrier, the daibutsu pushed forward, vines continuing to press from the other side and creating a cocoon around the monster's last protection. Caught between them, it would have no escape once sphere released. Vines would quickly encircle his limbs to begin with final attack.

(OOC) Post count now at 6, due to this post and the continued usage of the vines. Durability drops to 4.

The vampire's cannon ball strategy had been more or less effective in what he had originally set out to do. Despite the fact that the monk's construct was still standing, this time he had at least managed to land a more decisive blow against the giant. Regardless of how much faeth the old man may have been pouring into that thing, it was only a matter of time before it eventually crumbled. Of course, that still left Almos with the slight problem of surviving long enough to ensure that happened.

With the giant pushing forward against his Sphere of Desecration (no doubt further taxing its structural integrity) the vines were quickly catching up behind him. Left unchecked, he would soon be entirely boxed in once Angra Mainyu dissipated. Rather than allow himself to become so easily trapped, Almos decided that he'd had his fill of aggressive close combat for the moment. Dropping his personal shield, the vampire suddenly removed the obstruction that had been holding back the giant's forward momentum and as the behemoth's chest came forward, Lorand met it feet first. Even through his boots, Almos could feel the heat of the monk's faeth irritate his undead flesh. Realizing that extended contact would be disastrous, the vampire kicked off the construct's chest to propel himself back through a small space in the vines created by the sudden dispersion of his shield.

While it was true that the vines were numerous, the vampire still retained the advantage in raw speed gained by kicking off the Buddha with his full supernatural strength. To ensure his escape through an admittedly rapidly closing window, Almos lashed out with his cursed chain once more, shooting it in a linear path to hook into the ground away from the immediate vicinity of the golem. Fired while Almos was already moving at great speed, the chain would serve the added benefit of reeling him out of harm's way even fast like some sort of wildly dangerous artificial arm bolted onto the shoulder of a commando amputee.

Unfortunately for the vampire, he was unable to fully escape without injury as one of the vines attempted to coil around his right arm. Though he was able to slip free thanks to his beloved chain, the vine retained the sleeve of his overcoat and the moral victory of dislocating his right shoulder. As one would imagine, the sudden loss of his right arm's major functions inhibited Almos' landing, causing him to bounce and skid once across the picturesque utopia created the monk. Rolling to his feet, the vampire took off on a strafing run to stay one step ahead of any pursuing vines and outside of the golem's range. A small gash had opened up on Lorand's forehead causing blood to flow freely down the side of his head for a moment before the wound knit itself shut in time with his own grunt of pain as he forced his arm back into place.

"Not a bad trick, monk! Think you'll still be able to pull it off after I turn you into a vegetable and start feeding you your brothers?" Lorand asked, his feet a blur maneuvering him across the open field of the monk's conjuration. While it might have been a petty quip to most, Almos had little concern for fighting with any kind of nobility at this point in his unlife. At best, this (and future insults) would help to shake the priest's emotional state and concentration which were likely already stretched to the limit maintaining the numerous rituals currently in play. At worst, it helped Lorand deal with the tragic mutilation of his new coat.

The vampire had escaped. How disappointing. It was of little consequence, though. The monster's feeble skills would soon fail him. The vines no longer attempted to fight the vampire. Instead, they coiled their way around the monk's own barrier. Its entire body became entangled with green, its size slowly decreasing while keeping the same shape. Finally settling on the height of an abnormally tall human, taking its original stance.

The sky began turning various shades of purple, green, and gold in a wave pattern. Despite its outer coating of foliage, the barrier remained inside. With a decrease in power, it would allow for greater time limit to fight, as it seemed unlikely this vampire would be as easy a defeat as first thought. This new form, however, would remedy that. Launching forward at blinding speeds, he attempted another attack on the vampire in the form of a jab to the face.

(OOC) New form has level 3 speed and agility with level 1 strength. Durability has dropped to 2 and is covered in rugged vines. Durability now drops by .5 every 4 posts instead of 3. Even if the barrier is lost, the vines will still be there, which provide a minimal amount of protection and are slightly holy. I'd recommend some dubstep for the fight.

For as long as he could remember, Almos seemed to have been running. Running after relics, running from priests, running after priests. And now here he was skirting a wide circular path around a giant holy construct harassed by similarly summoned vines of some sort. Though the monk's numerous defenses rendered a frontal assault ill-advised, the brief lull in direct combat had allowed the crafty vampire a moment to take better stock of his surroundings. Had this strange place simply been an illusion cast over their position inside the temple, he would have surely run into some obstacle that didn't directly transfer over. A patch of hard air as it were. However, Almos had yet to encounter such an obstacle which meant this was either a form of divination or spatial manipulation. Were it the former, it would be a relatively simple matter to weaken or even shatter it using a ritual of his own. That is, it would be if he could find a free moment unobstructed by the vines.

And there it was.

Suddenly, the vines halted in their pursuit and began to recede back towards the monk. Though he kept his red eyes trained on the old man, Almos did not miss this opportunity to potentially disarm the monk. As soon as the vines broke off, he nicked his right thumb with his claw-like index nail to draw a bit of blood and immediately inscribed a bloody sigil onto his left palm to invoke a particularly useful ritual he had dubbed Urian's Will.

In the short time that the vampire had spent with his mystical preparations, the monk's vines had coalesced as another layer of armor on his drastically smaller golem. Evidently the decrease in size had led to an increase in speed as the monk came racing towards him with supernatural speed rivaling his own. Too late! he thought to himself, slapping his palm against the ground to activate his own ritual. While ripping apart the entire spatial construct was perhaps a bit optimistic, the golem beneath those vines was still a spiritual barrier construct and without it, the monk was just a frail old man covered in vines. Vines which would do little to protect him when Lorand responded to that little jab with a rising left uppercut from his crouching position. True, he risked taking a jab to the forehead but if that was the price he had to pay in order to land a decisive blow to cave in the monk's chest cavity, so be it.

Another spell from the vampire. Troublesome, the be sure, but nothing he couldn't handle. While the barrier beneath the vines was weakened slightly, due to its nature at dispelling Christian magics, it was largely less effective than could be hoped for.

Having done him the great service of not even moving out of his path, the monk's punch should connect, propelled forward by enhanced strength and the blazing speeds of his charge, it would no doubt rattle the monster's brain if not shatter his skull entirely. The holy vines would burn him, regardless of the extent of the damage, as well as stunt his regeneration.

At the same time, the monster's own attack was nothing to scoff at. Even with the barrier and vines to protect him, the force of the punch was enough to send the monk skyward, them tumbling along the ground. Despite what damage the barrier and vines would do to his hand, the vampire had managed to do some damage this time. Mental form or not, the Buddhist wasn't as spry as in his youth. A fist-like indentation stayed in the vines and barrier as the golem returned to its feet shakily. Another attack like that would likely be the end for him. With any luck, though, the blow to the head had knocked the fool unconscious and he could return to dispose of his physical form.

(OOC) Barrier now at 1.5 and drops every 2 posts, not counting this one.

Much to the vampire's displeasure, his ritual had not been effective in completely shattering the monk's barrier.  However, based on the results of his latest offensive, it was safe to say that it had at least softened the pesky defensive measure a bit.  It would be quite the understatement to say that the sensation of pummeling the obnoxious holy man into thin air was supremely rewarding at this point but it had not been a free victory.  The golem's fist had landed squarely against the front of Almos' brow, causing his head to swing back as a sharp surge of pain rushed down his face.  Thankfully, the golem's decrease in size had also decreased its physical strength, evening with Lorand's own supernatural durability.  With all things being equal, there was little difference between that punch and any lucky blow tossed in a bar room scuffle.  True, the remaining vines and barrier had probably spared the monk from a broken hand, but it was far from enough to smite the Hungarian vampire.  

Far more substantial than an obnoxiously sore jab to the forehead was the state of Almos' left hand and forehead.  Those infernal vines and barrier charged with faeth had once more burned the vampire's flesh, leaving an ugly crimson inflamation across his left knuckles which had yet to begin healing. Worse yet was the vampire's forehead, now sporting a blackened brand in the shape of the monk's fist which was already sending steady waves of pain through his head.

Pushing his thoughts of injury and pain aside, Lorand forced himself to focus on the monk tumbling to the ground and took off on a sprint of his own in pursuit.  Bearing down on the shaky monk, Almos had no intention of ever letting the old man regain his full senses after being rattled by that punch.  The vampire descended upon the holy man and carried through his momentum in a full powered, punting kick aimed at his opponent's head.

There wasn't much steam left in the old engine. This might truly be the end for the monk. If that was it, so be it, but he couldn't afford to stop fighting until the very last punch. Shaken as he was, he could still see the vampire launching another attack. Going limp, he dropped to avoid the kick, the monster's left sheering past the vines on his head. Using the fall to his advantage, he brought his fist down in a hammer motion towards the monster's crotch. Not very sportsman of him, but that wasn't really a concern right now. Lives were on the line.

If this space didn't exist, he'd be much worse off than he is now. Creaking joints and brittle bones weren't the best tools for fighting vampires, so a spiritual double of himself was the only way for him to even the playing field these days. If his last blow struck true, he'd be able to prepare for his last attack. Arms impacting the ground, he flipped upwards in a kicking motion to try and smash his foot into the man's face, using the enhanced strength provided by his abilities to keep going until he was able to kick off the surface provided and make some distance between the two of them. Assuming this to be the case, he'd do a one handed tumble to get upright once more. Should this not be true, he would still begin the preparations for his ultimate technique, drawing energy into his right index and middle fingertips with a small, blue light.

(OOC) 1 post.

His running kick had been narrowly evaded, shredding away at more of those obnoxious vines rather than taking off the old monk's head. It was a pity really. Almos had spent enough time wandering the globe to develop a healthy appreciation for futbol and it would have been so very satisfying to punt the old bastard's head clear across this perfect little field he'd dragged them to. Alas it was not to be and what's more, the monk was trying his hand at dirty fighting. Against many traditionally trained fighters with some sense of old school honor, a strike to an opponent's genitals would be entirely unacceptable. Thankfully, Almos was no such thing and one could go so far as to describe dirty fighting as near and dear to the vampire's shriveled heart.

So how would he avoid this latest cringe worthy attack? He wouldn't. Having given his most powerful defensive measure ample time to recharge, the Hungarian vampire unleashed his Sphere of Desecration to ram the weakening monk into the dirt and stop that little punch of his (and any potential acrobatic kicks he might have had in mind) before it ever connected.

Landing just past the monk in an athletic stance, Lorand turned back and brought his cursed chain to bare once again. The Bloodied Links slithered through the air in an attempt to ensnare the old man around the throat before violently, and repeatedly, slamming him into the ground like a humiliated Norse deity in the clutches of a giant, green monster of pure rage.

Though his own barrier prevented him from flying off, the vampire's prevented a successful attack. As the vampire moved overhead, the monk got back to his feet, fingertips glowing with the blue energy he'd been collecting. As the chain flew, he moved to the side, grabbing it right behind the barb. With all his strength, he pulled forward on the chain to try and force the vampire directly into him. His entire plan hinged on being strong enough. Just for this instance, he needed to be strong enough.

With his his muscles augmented by his magic and the vampire's keen attachment to the chain, the demon would hopefully come barreling towards the monk, perhaps even of his own volition. When in range, he would extend his right arm, fingertips still prepared. The best case would be direct contact to the monster's chest and right above the heart. However, it would still be of use as long as his aim was true. "Four Noble Truths," he would declare in monotone. He wished he never had to use this technique. Upon activation, the light would leave his fingers, passing through the vampire a total of four times. Each time it passed, it would take more and more of this reality with it, sending the full force of the monk's spiritual energy to attack the invader. First the vines, returning to their true form as golden light. Then his own barrier, passing into his hand and out his fingers. Then the tree and sky. Then the entire arena itself.

Whether or not he could successfully move the vampire, he would fire this technique. Perhaps he would be the one pulled, going with the current and doing the reverse of his initial strategy. Maybe nothing would happen and he would have to hope the distance wouldn't be great enough to dodge. Regardless, the battle would end here.

(OOC) Monk is out of power. Barrier world ends after Almos' reaction to the attack and both of them will return to their bodies.

It was becoming more and more apparent that the aging monk was running low on power. From the beginning of their battle it had been a test of attrition between the two of them and that was just the kind of struggle that the vampire thrived in. However, despite the old man's mounting exhaustion, he'd still managed to grab hold of Almos' cursed chain as it moved for his neck. Though Lorand's features twisted into a furious rage at the sight of a faithful man attempting to use his memento against him, the vampire did not miss the blue light growing in intensity on the monk's free hand. Whatever it was, it appeared as if the old man was not able to utilize it with the same speed as his other rituals.

Don't let it connect. Almos silently reminded himself while tightening his grip on his end of Enkidu against the old monk's attempt to draw him in. The blond's enraged features shifted once more into a sadistic smirk as his physical strength proved too much for the winded man's efforts to overcome. He did move forward of course, but not directly towards the old man and his mysterious super weapon. Instead, Almos dashed forward at a 45 degree angle to the man, favoring the side holding Enkidu while simultaneously letting out just a bit more slack in his chain to fully encircle the monk's wrist. True, that pesky barrier of his meant that the Bloodied Links would be unable to crush the joint entirely, but Almos had already proven his strength was beyond that of the monk's and that strength applied through Enkidu would be more than enough to ensure that final technique never landed.

As if on que, the old man uttered the name of his trump card, a weakness in his abilities that Almos had finally begun to pick up on. Acting on his perfect window, Almos commanded Enkidu to pull towards the ground with full power, attempting to drag the old man with it and further through off his concentration. To be honest, Almos never saw whether or not his trick with Enkidu was fully successful as his eyes were immediately drawn to the arrows of shining faeth racing towards him. Four consecutive blasts of raw power eating away at the monk's other techniques cut through the imagined space of their mental duel. Had they connected, they would have been a truly decisive blow to finish the vampire once and for all.

Unfortunately for the monastery's guardian, they did not.

Distance, awkward angles, a supernaturally fast target, exhaustion, and the attempted interference by Enkidu were sizable disadvantages to overcome for the poor monk and in the end they had simply been too much. The Four Noble Truths sliced through thin air and devoured the mental field that had served as their battleground and Almos once again found himself standing within the monastery before the monk. Though his forehead and left hand appeared uninjured, he could still feel the phantom pain of those scalding burns he'd received within the imagined world. Truly a fascinating technique.

"Was it worth it, old man? Killing yourself knowing what I'm going to do to everyone you care about?" he asked, running his tongue over his lips. Underneath his typical tone of sadistic amusement, there was an odd touch of curiosity to Almos' voice as if a part of him were trying to empathize with the monk even as he brought destruction and madness to this hallowed ground.

No more power. That was it. Having returned to the world, it was as if nothing happened. "I did not fight to protect myself or the others," he said, standing strong on borrowed energy. Whether it was some Heroic Second Wind or the graces of the Buddha himself, he was able to deliver a last few pieces of wisdom before he would die. "I fought to protect you. The artifact you seek once belonged to me. I told you before that it is not for us to possess. If you are not a fool, you will stop now and do what you once knew was right. Your suffering will only continue for as long as you continue in your misguided endeavors. The choice is yours." He died standing on his feet, refusing to back down. Life is suffering, but there will eventually be a way out. Maybe this vampire will find it some day.

The vampire listened to the old man's dying words with great care, fully digesting each and every bit of supposed wisdom that he was willing to give. But as he droned on, Lorand's face tilted towards the floor where his features became shrouded in thin shadow from the flickering candles still dancing en mass behind the monk. Even after the monk slipped away, Almos remained there silently staring at the floor before the upright dead man. Finally, after nearly a minute of silence, the former monk spoke.

"Do what I once knew was right..." he said, his inflection implying a question as much as it did a statement. "Right for who? For the Church? For God?" Almos continued, his voice growing louder and angrier with each passing syllable until he finally cast his burning glare back up to the monk's remains and took a single stomping stride towards them before bring up his other leg into a chambered position. With a roar, the vampire drove his boot into the monk's solar plexus with all the strength he could muster, caving in the man's chest cavity and sending the corpse rocketing backwards to crash into the alter behind him. Burning candles flew in all directions and the statute of Buddha occupying the center most position shattered as the monk's body impacted it.

Scowling down at the remains of the fallen guardian, Almos slowly slipped his hands back into his trouser pockets and stalked towards the exposed statue's hollow interior. "I'm doing what's right for me." he muttered, as if trying to convince himself. Within the statute lay a gilded tube containing what could only be the prize he'd come here seeking. "I'm not suffering, monk. Not anymore and not ever again." The vampire stepped over the monk's remains and gingerly took hold of the scroll before easing it into his inner coat pocket.

There would be no desecration of the monk's remains, no torturing of his brethren in the other parts of the now burning monastery. The Hungarian vampire simply turned and took his exit from the hallowed ground without another word. None of the other monks had seen him and the mental battle against the guardian had been more tiring than he expected but most of all, he'd simply had his fill of monasteries for the day. Too many bad memories to begin with and he'd killed enough monks for one day.

OOC: I think that about wraps this up, yeah?

(Complete)