You can't let Maria show you up in front of Logarius even if the fucker's a few seconds away from being too dead to judge you. As her halting steps carry her back towards the pocket, pages and nails erupt from your sleeves, repelling the wind and snow in their vicious maelstrom. Maria's blades flare to life and she slams them into the waiting scythe with your ward-to-be swirling about her.
Your ward is one of your greatest tools. It is also, when not yet active, extremely flammable. The scythe slips past the nails and Maria's wild swings incinerate most of the pages, adding a fresh coat of ash to the crowded brawl. The flames roar brilliantly as they eat into the frostbitten shaft and singe Logarius' robes, but they're not enough to turn the tide; Maria's slowed dramatically from her earlier efforts and her once-pristine combinations have devolved into desperate flurries. Logarius' newfound strength repels her charge, batting aside her cuts with parries that nearly take her off her feet. The sword in his dead left hand scores Maria's garb with blows that are becoming less and less glancing as the exchange continues.
When artistry and fancy superpowers fail, raw brutality is there to pick up the slack. You fill both your hands with bayonets and shove one between your teeth. Though it pains you dearly to cripple your quip-making like this, every little bit of pointy object helps.
"
MMMFFFMFMF," you bellow righteously as you crouch down and barrel into the fray. Maria redoubles her attack and Logarius lashes out with another push kick, seemingly intent on launching her away to maintain the pattern of successive one-on-ones. She doubles over as foot meets gaping chest wound, but somehow manages to hold her ground send another tongue of flame across his face. You're on him by the time he finally manages to knock her back. Your blades tear into the gouges Maria left behind and force the man to adjust his grip as he gives ground. You even manage to get a few dings in with the one in your mouth as you headbang away.
Just as he seems to be faltering, however, he thumps you with the same upward swing that took Maria out of commission earlier and follows it up with a crunching blow to your injured leg. You nearly bite through the bayonet as your head rings and he turns his attention back to Maria, who's slow to regain her footing.
Judging by the look on his face when you stab him through the thigh, he really wasn't expecting you to still be ready to rumble after that.
The big man's been drinking his milk, apparently; you manage to pull yourself back to your feet using his impaled femur as leverage and then bury your second blade in his shoulder when he tries to round on you. You savor his second moment of panic and yank his head down to eye level before ramming your third blade into his jugular. His reach finally working against him, he drops the scythe and wraps his fingers around your neck. With their thinness and his strength, it might as well be five garrotes doing a number on your arteries.
You're forced to open your mouth and wheeze, blood vessels bursting under the pressure. The blood that's already in your brain files for overtime pay and the impending blackout passive-aggressively taps on your shoulder as you squirm. You grab onto the blade in his neck and rattle it around as best you can, getting precious inches of penetration as his grip remains steadfast and stale blood drips down his robe. The scrape of metal on bone alerts you that you've reached his spine and he slackens enough for you to pull two more blades out and go to town on his vertebrae.
What was once a tactical battle befitting of honorable warriors has devolved into you trying to chop his head off before he can finish strangling you. Whatever lingering instincts kept his fighting prowess intact probably didn't anticipate this sort of situation.
A furious stab finally takes his legs out from under him and he crumples on top of you, mouth bobbing wordlessly. A few more gouges and his crowned head rolls free, soon tangled in its own hair as it drifts down the tiles.
PREY SLAUGHTERED
With some undignified grunts, you shove your way out from underneath him and help Maria to her feet. She staggers forward, rears back, and hammers his limp body with a swing that immediately sets it ablaze. His flesh bone-dry and paper-thin, Logarius burns beautifully, a welcome-yet-morbid relief from the chill. You pull the crown off his head before tossing the latter into the flames with the rest.
For a few minutes, you just sit with Maria, watching the old master fall to pieces in the fire.
"That was fun," she says. "I'd forgotten what a real fight felt like. Thank you."
"Aye, that was somethin'. We should do this more often."
"Perhaps later." She leans back and breathes out. "I wish to rest, Father Anderson."
"Fair enough. See ye in the Nightmare."
She nods and allows herself to fall. Her shining form vanishes as it's swallowed by the snow, leaving behind only a Maria-angel that's gone in seconds.
The bonfire soon sputters out, fuel spent. You toss the crown up and down a few times, looking around for where the throne room would be. Maybe you need to get into the right mindset; if you were an ancient vampire aristocrat, where would
you put the door?
Well, personally, you'd smite yourself and purge your sinful presence from the earth, but you can fudge it a bit.
[] Write in...
