Infidel brother. Eivor felt a tinge of pure hatred at the words. If they hadn't been in the middle of a massacre she would have punched Hjalund then and there, but no, that would have to wait. She merely ran past him, sticking to higher ground as she traded her war axe for her trusty bow. She shot generously into the crowd, meeting her mark every time as she shot vampire after vampire. As the fury of her arrows swept the crowd she searched for her brother... And ultimately found him. With a scowl she shot, burying an arrow into the wood beside Arnbjorns head. Arnbjorn flinched and looked up, his face turning a little white once he noticed the hellish figure of his sister scorned. He didn't have time to be angry at her; he needed to sacrifice as many mortals as he could in order for the blood ritual to be complete.

Eivor gave a huff and pointed her arrow at the tall, bearded man; he had to be Agravain. She pulled back, taking a moment to line up her shot.

Agravain was surrounded, cutting down men and mer that tried to stop him. He grit his teeth, showered in a fresh layer of b lood as he scanned the area; there were too many warriors! He even saw a Knight of Nine among the ranks. This wasn't good; the ritual would be a failure. He hastily made his decision, looking among the members of his coven. "RETREAT!" He commanded, and seconds after he shouted the words each vampire disappeared in a flash, having used a spell of transportation saved for such an occaision. A second later Eivors arrow sunk into the wood right where Agravain's head just was.

"... They're gone." Eivor whispered, lowering her bow. "The cowards!" She yelled, kicking a hole into the railing in her rage. 

BelleoftheBrawl

Infidel brother. Eivor felt a tinge of pure hatred at the words. If they hadn't been in the middle of a massacre she would have punched Hjalund then and there, but no, that would have to wait. She merely ran past him, sticking to higher ground as she traded her war axe for her trusty bow. She shot generously into the crowd, meeting her mark every time as she shot vampire after vampire. As the fury of her arrows swept the crowd she searched for her brother... And ultimately found him. With a scowl she shot, burying an arrow into the wood beside Arnbjorns head. Arnbjorn flinched and looked up, his face turning a little white once he noticed the hellish figure of his sister scorned. He didn't have time to be angry at her; he needed to sacrifice as many mortals as he could in order for the blood ritual to be complete.

Eivor gave a huff and pointed her arrow at the tall, bearded man; he had to be Agravain. She pulled back, taking a moment to line up her shot.

Agravain was surrounded, cutting down men and mer that tried to stop him. He grit his teeth, showered in a fresh layer of b lood as he scanned the area; there were too many warriors! He even saw a Knight of Nine among the ranks. This wasn't good; the ritual would be a failure. He hastily made his decision, looking among the members of his coven. "RETREAT!" He commanded, and seconds after he shouted the words each vampire disappeared in a flash, having used a spell of transportation saved for such an occaision. A second later Eivors arrow sunk into the wood right where Agravain's head just was.

"... They're gone." Eivor whispered, lowering her bow. "The cowards!" She yelled, kicking a hole into the railing in her rage. 

Hjalund pulls his mace out of the shattered remnants of a vampire's skull, flicking off the ichor and glancing back to the still-burning vampiress, who had long since succumbed to death. He glares at the vampires, growling as he sheathes his mace.

"Yes, run back to your false god! One day, the wrath of the Nine will end you all!" He calls out to them as they retreat, his voice still boiling with barely-contained rage and religious fervor. His body visibly quakes from his fury and the after effects of adrenaline, and his shoulders heave as he continues to take in deep, heavy breaths.

Emily realized there was no vampires, it took her a moment before she got up. She looked around at the sight of all the fire and blood and dead corpses, gasping as she looked at them. Sheathing her sword she bent down to pick up her staff, she still couldn't believe the amount if bodies. At the sight of blood her stomach growled and her eyes flashed a bit red. She shook away the lust and hunger as she got up and tightened the strings if her green cloak wrapping herself in it while she walked slowly almost choking.

Once the battle had finally come to a halt, a familiar figure could be seen at the entrance.

"Did you find the front door yet?" He asked as he leanded against the frame. He looked like he'd just told a joke, albeit a rather poor one.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced. My name is Scipio. It's a pleasure to make your aquaintance."

Eivor slowly put her arrow in its quiver, looking around at the carnage. She felt nothing but numbness at the sight; the night had stirred up so many emotions within her that she didn't have any more room to feel. She walked down the stairs, the taps of her boots against the wood filling the silence between sobs and cries as the injured were carried away and the dead were mourned. 

Arnbjorn is alive and he is a slave to a vampire lord. She thought, trying to keep herself focused so she didn't lose her temper. Arnbjorn is alive and- Her thoughts were interrupted as Scipio spoke. She twitched her mouth in emotion at his words and simply exhaled out a "damn you" as she got closer. "I'm Eivor Tide-Breaker... And you're not a waiter, are you?" She squinted, almost seeing the symptoms of vampirism on the man. "... You look... A little ill..." She muttered, then shook her head dismissively. "Whatever... It doesn't matter..." She sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. She didn't even have the energy to be her usual, angry self.

She looked aside at the divine crusader, narrowing her eyes a bit. "Hey. You alright, over there? Poor little knight didn't get a paper cut, did he?" There it was. Her anger towards the knight was finally enough to break her melancholy. 

(sorry mate, I needed to introduce my character before I went to bed. I'm late enough as it is and I need to sleep. stuff to do tomorrow. gnight sleep well. :p)

((Night! I should sleep soon too... Work first thing in the morning Dx

BelleoftheBrawl

Eivor slowly put her arrow in its quiver, looking around at the carnage. She felt nothing but numbness at the sight; the night had stirred up so many emotions within her that she didn't have any more room to feel. She walked down the stairs, the taps of her boots against the wood filling the silence between sobs and cries as the injured were carried away and the dead were mourned. 

Arnbjorn is alive and he is a slave to a vampire lord. She thought, trying to keep herself focused so she didn't lose her temper. Arnbjorn is alive and- Her thoughts were interrupted as Scipio spoke. She twitched her mouth in emotion at his words and simply exhaled out a "damn you" as she got closer. "I'm Eivor Tide-Breaker... And you're not a waiter, are you?" She squinted, almost seeing the symptoms of vampirism on the man. "... You look... A little ill..." She muttered, then shook her head dismissively. "Whatever... It doesn't matter..." She sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. She didn't even have the energy to be her usual, angry self.

She looked aside at the divine crusader, narrowing her eyes a bit. "Hey. You alright, over there? Poor little knight didn't get a paper cut, did he?" There it was. Her anger towards the knight was finally enough to break her melancholy. 

Instead of answering calmly as he usually does, Hjalund whips around and jabs a finger in her direction. His voice, when he speaks, is filled with his barely contained rage at what has just transpired.

"Be silent, vampire wench! If it was not for the fact you yourself hate vampires and wish yourself cured, I would cut you down where you stand!" He spits out, the venom quite obvious. But, he does not seem himself. He normally would not act this way, no matter how angered he was... But that's just it. He isn't himself, his years as a warrior of the gods has built an instinctive hate for all things unholy.

Not waiting for her to answer, he turns back around and storms out of the tavern, drawing his sword as he moves forward. When he exits the tavern, he looks around for a horse, any horse, before actually stealing one without a care as to the consequences. Shouting can be heard from outside of a 'man in armor on a stolen horse.' It can only be presumed that this is Hjalund making ready to run the vampire coven down and slaughter them in their homes.

The effects of Hjalund's uncontained fury could still be felt in his abscence. Looking around, everyone standing seemed to already feel dead and empty. Scipio stood up straight and spoke out of genuine concern.

"You're right that I'm not a waiter. I used to be, but the inn fell under attack and now I'm unemployed. I am ill, as my family wasn't known to resist disease. I almost always have something plaguing me. I'm sorry about the joke. It was a poor joke and in poor taste. If it eases your hearts, I saw several of the townsfolk escape before the battle was done. I know you probably need time to mourn and to grieve, but if we don't act quickly your charming knight may cause a bit of trouble."

(Is the brawl over???)

YolGoraagSingh

(Is the brawl over???)

(has been for a while now...)

Makor walks out of the tavern and drops the sword "Can't go to the tavern without finding strange shit."