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Freedom in Many Ways; [Private: Logan]
Topic Started: Fri Nov 24, 2017 10:13 pm (518 Views)
Vaska
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Vaska leaned back against the wall of the ger, feeling the slight coldness from the outside. She noticed her ears tilting back to a neutral angle. Normally she kept them perpetually pinned back. 'Angry or scared.' Who's to say, from one moment to the next? she mocked herself.

"I really wouldn't know how to teach anything to someone else, Mr. Logan, much less a kinesthetic skill. I wasn't exactly the most adept learner myself. To put it lightly." The half-vampire let out a long breath through her nose, staring up at the ceiling of the large tent.

"What a coincidence, I'm a kinesthetic learner!" Logan chuckled, a wide grin on his wolfish face, "Go slow or just demonstrate and I can follow your lead. I can kind of keep up doing dance routines like that."

"Me? Start attacking you? In here?" Vaska said, gesturing between the two of them. "Is your energy infinite, sir? Don't you want to conserve some of it for the inevitable attack?"

"What, no not right now. If we do that I'll get my ass kicked by you and then Artur." Logan laughed nervously, a few of the lights around his cheeks glowing red, "I mean after this is over. I mean, if you aren't finished with your family at Artur, there's a good chance we'll see each other after this is done, right? Or I could visit and you could give me some lessons."

"Oh. Right. Makes sense." Vaska ran her gloved hand over her face. "Right, you just said--... my apologies." She adjusted her cravat and cleared her throat. "Perhaps. Though I'm sure you could easily find someone more proficient. None of my talents are rare or valuable. Indeed, the whole reason I'm here -- we're here, in fact -- is because you gave me the benefit of the doubt."

"I don't know. Don't really care since I don't know anybody better, either. I know you, plus it would probably be good." Logan said, pausing a moment to consider the whys that he knew very well. More time around beautiful girls was always welcome, even moreso to nonhumans as his preferences, but his eyes lingered on that aspect for a moment, "Hey, your ears can stand up? They look even cuter that way!"

Down went the ears again, snapping back toward her hair. The startled reaction didn't reach her face, which was frozen into its default of a mild, vaguely judgmental stare. She hadn't expected him to bring it up again. Her only retort was a soft ugh. As she moved over to the flap of a door to peer through the gaps where it had been buttoned in place, Vaska glanced nervously toward Logan to make sure he wasn't still looking at her. "Hopefully the novelty wears off," she murmured as her fingers slid into the gap and pried it wider. Outside, a mixture of wet snow and heavy winds flew across her narrow view.

"I hope you have a book to read or the like. We're going to be stuck here for a while, and I guarantee you that I'm not a good subject for extended conversation." She felt she'd run out of things to talk about many minutes ago, in fact.



How long had Vaska been working continuously? She'd been following the investigation of Artur Sykora long before successfully locating Logan. So with the warmth of the tent, the storm outside, the seeming lack of immediate danger and the lack of things to both do and talk about, she shouldn't have been as surprised to find that she'd dozed off. Vaska had been sitting up with her back against the ger wall, arms and legs folded and head drooping to one side.

She shuddered awake, confused for a few seconds and then embarrassed after that. Vaska smoothed her hair, pinned her ears back, and took a look outside again. "Lightly snowing. How long was I out? I must apologize for this. Though perhaps these apologies are redundant, as I've already proved many times over how poor of a servant I truly am, and how rude." The half-vampire rubbed her eyes and stood up to smooth out the folds in her suit. "Any signs of a problem?"


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Logan
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No books, just thoughts and watch. Even as a werewolf he was still a ways off from feeling natural with his heightened senses, particular hearing, but if he focused and kept a little paranoid then he could pick up on faint sounds up to a certain distance. What that distance was, he never tested, but it was usually enough to keep him alive. He also had his sweet drink to keep him awake while the half-vampire seemed to settle in comfortably for some sleep without the weight of expectation on her shoulders.

As Vaska awoke, Logan eyed up his tipped over canister of alchemical energy, the chocolate banana drink that he had emptied while she slept.

"Morning Starshine." He said, looking sidelong at the half vampire before putting the empty container down, "No attacks during the blizzard. Nothing out right now. You're cute when you're sleeping, but seriously, you can stop apologizing. If I wanted a butler I couldn't ask for one better.

"When you're done waking up, we can consider options. Might be a good idea to hunt him down in turn. What are your thoughts?"


Her jaw tightened, but she was quick to move on with the conversation. "Not much else we can do. Might lead them straight to us, which at this point is desirable I suppose."

"Yeah, can't do that on an empty stomach, though." Logan nodded in agreement, "Twinkle fell back asleep not long after you, so we can get started after she wakes up. Good chance for you to grab breakfast; I've been filling up on jerky."

The servant gave a tight nod before rummaging through her own scant belongings. She withdrew a flask that pulsed faintly with etchings that kept the contents chilled. The contents, upon popping open the cap, smelled strongly of blood. Vaska made a face that was difficult to read before putting the flask to her lips and tipping it up like it was actual liquor. She didn't spill a single drop, but still took out a handkerchief and dabbed the corners of her lips with an expression that was devoid of any kind of pleasure in life. "Is jerky all the food you eat, sir?"

"It keeps long and it's tasty." Logan shrugged logically, a stuff gesture despite his usually relaxed nature.

He paused for a while, just watching her. His throat caught a bit, but he breathed deep, the marks on his face glowing red, but it was something he wanted to get done before it had a chance of either being brought up or regretted as a missed opportunity later, "Hey, since we're going to be going out before too long, would you mind if I. . . Uhm, our deal? We can start while you eat. . . Err, drink, I guess, though I've still got some jerky if you want."

Vaska tensed at the sight of the red markings. "Yeah. Okay. As long as you're alright."

"I'm-- uhh, yeah, I'm alright as long as you are." He said nervously, unsure of his own words as he spoke, second-guessing each syllable as it left his lips, "H-how do you. . . Want to do this?"

Holding her flask with both hands, Vaska appeared to be finding the floor to be extremely interesting to look at. "I don't know, sir. Were you not the one who came up with this?"

"I, uhh, yeah. But I mean. . . I know. . . I want to, I don't know if you'd like it, but if you don't want to then we don't actually have to." Logan admitted, finding the same sudden interest in the floor that she had.

Logan's discomfort only made Vaska's worse, judging by her strangulation of her flask and the agitated twitching in her ears. "Well, sir, I didn't have much of an opinion on it, other than that the idea was strange, and your enthusiasm was strange enough to be memorable, but I can't say-- that is, one way or another, if I should be making this call." A bout of silence passed. "It might at this point be more awkward not to get it over with, for what my opinion is worth, sir." Her lips tightened and she steeled herself. I'm probably wrong. Vaska stowed her flask and, in a definitive gesture nearly to the point of wearing a determined frown on her face, ducked her head in Logan's direction.

"You're wrong." Logan said a little more definitively and confidently in what he meant to convey, lifting his head up despite the additional redness on his face, "It's definitely your call, it's your head and ears after all. I know I want to, but I'm. . . I would. . . Well. . . Uhm. . . I. . . I'm not a. . . Mm. . . I think. . . Touching you would be nice."

As he spoke, one by one the markings on his face grew red and his golden gaze went back to being fixed firmly on the floor, "And if you end up liking it, too, then I think that would be nice. But if you don't want to, then I don't think you'd think it's nice, and I don't want to just. . . Make you more uncomfortable with something you don't like. Does that make sense?"

Vaska's fingers curled into fists against her legs. She held her awkward pose for a few more seconds before finally rising to her feet and pacing back and forth, face red with embarrassment. "My choice?" It was the closest thing to raising her voice she'd ever reached since they'd met -- a slight elevation. "Sir, I've lived my whole life being punished for willfulness, and impropriety, and any other word one might use to describe 'a person acting out of place.' That includes making choices! This is all just so very odd, and I've been given a choice where there was none before, and yet you're very uncomfortable, which makes me wonder if I'm perhaps not understanding the situation! A choice, sir! I am quite simply not bred for that kind of thinking! I was born to follow orders and act according to clear directions! How am I to make a decision about something with which I have no familiarity--"

She caught herself in the middle of her tirade. The blood drained from her face. She ran her palms across her cheeks, trying to breathe. Muttering profuse apologies, she rushed to the door flap of the ger and went to work freeing it from its buttons. "I beg your pardon, truly, it's just-- not really about the deal, but--... Anyway, I'm going to check the area. You're welcome to join me, sir."

Not the petting necessarily that freaked her out, but having to choose to do something, and it kind of broke the camel's back after everything before it where Logan was encouraging her to think for herself. Without saying a word, he moved over to the entrance and helped her get it open so that she could escape into the cold, not wanting to keep her trapped to wallow in the awkwardness with him.

Once she was out, the werewolf sat with his head lowered once more, blue and green lights coming to life around his neck, some of the red turning purple, as he considered that he might have just broken her brain and finally succeeded in making her dislike him. He had not expected it to take this long, or to have somehow dodged it being caused by his questionable desire, but by pressuring her into making her own decision on the matter. It must have been a straw, but all it took was one, and he had definitely been piling those on since he met her.

For a moment he simply sat in silence, alone, before a voice chimed in his head.

Follow her outside, you stupid dog. Came the very familiar voice of the fly dragon echoing in his mind, and his mind alone.

"You're awake?" Logan turned to face his bag, opening its flap to reveal the small dragon staring back up at him with a sleepy gaze.

No. Shut up. Follow her. She replied without moving, but both of her eyes fixed on the provider of food, I'm asleep so just. . . stop being stupid.

"But I don't think she--"

You don't know what she thinks. If you want any of your loud thoughts to happen, then you need to be her friend first, and right now she needs a friend. She's probably always needed a friend. At last, Twinkle lifted her head to make her glare more apparent. She was small, but projecting as much ferocity as he possibly could, with no waver or ground to give, Go outside, I'm still asleep as far as either of you are concerned.

"It's--! I. . ." The werewolf tried stuttering out an argument to no avail.

Go. Twinkle finalized, lowering her head back onto a rolled-up extra shirt for emergencies.

Logan paused another long moment before shutting the bag and doing as instructed. He doubted that the catgirl would have gone far given the circumstances,

"Vaska?" He called softly, quickly finding her. He breathed deep as he turned to examine the horse, seeming no worse for wear other than being covered a bit in snow, he returned his gaze to the one he had come out to talk with. The markings on his face glowed like beacons against the perpetual darkness, blue and green around his neck, red around his cheeks, and yellow everywhere else, "I'm sorry, I know I've probably been making you feel uncomfortable this whole time, I just. . . I don't. . . I don't really. . .

"You're. . . I mean all the compliments I've said about you, but you're a mystery to me and I want to get to know you better. I figured making you uncomfortable enough to get angry at me or something would be the best way to do that, to see what it takes for you to get passionate enough to say something, but I wasn't expecting that. For me, choices are normal, it's all I've got, it's all a lot of adventurers 've got, and I've learned that our choices reveal who we are. What we agree to, what we reject. I get this choice, especially, is really. . . awkward. I mean it, though, if you don't want me touching you like that, then I won't. I'll still hold up to my end of our deal and stop talking about it, though.

"If it helps, you could. . . I don't know. Maybe consider making a choice on your own good practice? I don't know how your House died, but I think if it was Artur it'd be pretty obvious, which probably means that you'll get sent out again after more potential enemies in the future. He doesn't come off as subtle enough to mistake for anything else. You'll probably be on your own for most of your trips, and there won't be people giving you orders, just choices and most of those aren't going to make sense or be simple, they're just going to be. . . Things you'll have to choose for yourself, whether or not you want to follow them and find out for yourself what they'll result in. Some of them will be good, a lot'll probably be bad, at least that's been my experience, but either way you'll have to learn to choose or else you won't get anywhere, either for your house, or more importantly for yourself."
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Vaska
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Vaska was a short distance away from the ger, busy putting on her fur-lined mantle over her suit. The blizzard from earlier had died down until it was nothing more than windswept flecks of ice reflecting what little light was coming from their camp. Beyond the gloom, all she could make out were a few swamp trees and then nothing. Her boots sunk calf-deep into the snow.

She was listening to Logan, but didn't turn around or interrupt him. Even once he was done speaking, Vaska waited a few beats as she tried to formulate something like a coherent answer. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Finally she worked up the nerve to turn around, clutching her fur garment over her chest to prevent it from billowing in the frigid breeze. "Those are barely choices when I'm given a goal. I'm told to kill this family member or bring in the other -- their instructions are clear. Anything that brings me closer to that end point is what I do."

"And what do you do when you're forced to stagnate or wait? When there's nothing to do while you wait for that goal to fall into place?" Logan asked, the lights on his face dimming to an outline of dull blue, "I've done enough jobs to know that you're not always occupied, after you've prepared everything you can, when your only choices are to stay for the job and wait for things to fall into place or to leave and do something else. Those are the points when you have the most choice, when you can decide where you go, what you do, how you'll handle the situation. Do you just sit still and wait for your target to come to you, even if that takes days?"

"I..." Vaska looked away. I do. And it's miserable. But clearly I have some sense of shame remaining to know that I shouldn't say as much. He'd either laugh out of surprise or make some ridiculous offer. "Where would I even start? There are too many options, in most cases."

"Then start small and simple. You don't need to make big decisions right at the start, just something simple that you know you chose." Logan said without a beat missed, the lights on his face fully dying away as he gestured back to the ger, "Do you want to stay out here or go inside? Whichever you choose, I'll stay with you and talk as long as we both have something to say."

Vaska let out a sigh. "Thank you." She turned and squinted into the swamps beyond their camp. Her mind invented shapes moving in the nothingness, like the visual equivalent of a ringing noise in complete silence. The half-vampire pinched the bridge of her nose. "We need to-- ahem, rather, I would like to stay out here, if it pleases, and begin searching for signs of our quarry." Those words still tasted bitter, and she almost wanted to flinch in anticipation of a punishing strike.

As she broke a trail through virgin snow, Vaska scanned the area around her for signs of activity on the part of Artur or his followers. Despite herself, she found words coming out of her mouth. "You mentioned earlier the reason the house of my masters died. It appears they were victims of a horrible curse or hex. They all went blood-crazed at the same moment. In a murderous frenzy, kin killed kin. I was there, in the dining room. It was... horrible." She bared her teeth into something between a grimace and a defensive smile. "I felt nothing of this curse. And yet in the chaos I couldn't find any of the other servants. When I finally came back to the cave, all of my mothers and sisters were gone. It was abandoned. So--" a compulsive laugh, a single syllable, rolled out from her throat, "--it turned out I was neither. I wasn't a Sykora because I wasn't targeted by the curse. I wasn't a Lakatos vampire because they didn't take me with them when they abandoned the cave. So now it's just... me, I suppose, administering to spirits."
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Time to get to work then? Perhaps it still held a somber note to it, but it was her choice. The werewolf sighed quietly before smirking to himself with a gentle nod, feeling at least a little bit of the tension melt away from him. He said nothing to her wishes, but simply followed her through the thick white powder. For him, seeing through the darkness was as easy as the light, perhaps easier without it feeling like it was burning into his retinas, and he kept his golden gaze focused at the tree line.

When she spoke, Logan listened in silence. To live through that and its aftermath put things into perspective, it gave him more backstory to understand her by. He knew that laugh, though, it was one of his most common when things went wrong, when he was trying to talk through something he wanted to avoid. He accompanied his efforts with self-deprecating jokes, but she was too proper to make fun of even her own misfortune and play it off as normal or acceptable.

"Please stop moving?" Logan asked softly as she mentioned the ghosts of the dead. He picked up his own pace just a bit to catch up to her, then would wrap his arms around her in a firm but gentle embrace, holding her close to him.

Vaska stopped, flinched, and then calmed down a moment later once she realized what was happening. "It's merely the truth, sir. No need for reassurance."

"Has anybody given you a hug since then?" He asked quietly, his tone level.

"Hugs weren't really a thing that was done, sir. I was raised communally. Nothing so... individualized might not be the right word, but you know what I mean."

"Then, 'no.'" Logan snerked gently, trying not to find her response too amusing, "You're an individual now, but you're far from alone. You're not a Sykora or Lakatos, you're Vaska, that's all I care about. I like to think I've seen enough to know when somebody needs a hug."

Vaska looked down at the snow, cracking a small smile. "Thank you, sir." Her voice cracked.

After a short time, Vaska drifted past Logan's hug and pulled her mantle tighter around her body. She didn't say anything as she progressed further around the perimeter of their camp, scanning the area for anything out of the ordinary.

"Maybe so, maybe I'm just Vaska, but I still have a duty to the only House I've ever kn--"

Her words were interrupted by a white-hot pain that came so quickly she didn't even have time to cry out. The vampire's ears rang, and every sound made in the environment was a dull murmur beneath a loud, hollow buzzing noise that seemed to emanate from inside her own head. When she pulled her hands away and looked at them, the palms and arms were ripped open and bleeding profusely. Stunned, she barely noticed herself collapse onto a knee as one leg went numb.

For Logan the darkness seemed to flash. To call the sound that accompanied the sudden onset of light a noise seemed like it would be inaccurate as it almost immediately melted into a ringing mess. At first there was confusion as he tried to regain his senses, then a sudden realization that it was some sort of explosion. At first his sight recovered to simple shapes past the floating spots in his vision, but he quickly found his way to Vaska, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back towards the ger.

"Twinkle! I think Vaska needs help!" The adventurer shouted as he rebounded off of the canvas frame around the ger's entrance, the words barely audible against the noise.

What was that?! Twinkle cried out in his mind for answers as she flitted from the bag and to the injured half-vampire. Things had been going so well, and now there was this mess out of nowhere.

"I don't know, we--" Logan tried to communicate, but a line against the haze stole his attention as it pierced through the air past his head and over the other two. Without a single thought to the action, he released Vaska from his grasp and pulled a large copper shield from the air, slamming its edge down against the ground before a force like hail coming from the side opposite those he sought to protect rammed into its face.
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The shock of the attack wore off after a few long seconds, but luckily Logan had more experience with emergencies like this. He came to his senses even quicker, grabbing Vaska and pulling her back toward the tent. She went along with him as her mind shifted gears and came into better focus. Logan summoned a copper shield to ward off the attacks that now dawned on her to be crossbow fire.

It was inevitable that they'd come back. They even wanted that to happen. But to think she'd made such a huge oversight in the whole plan... You idiot! Of course they would find the camp and take their sweet time setting up traps. If she was having any coherent thoughts after that, they'd all blended together and lost to a slew of emotion she had no time to analyze. She was sick of this, but it was even more than that. Every slight that Artur had committed against her returned in perfect clarity at the speed of thought. The resentment coloring the flat anger was multifaceted enough to be overwhelming.

Vaska started to tremble. Her fingers curled into fists. Red flooded into her irises, dying them the color of arterial blood. When she roared -- something like a mountain cat paired with a demonic scream, nothing human -- she briefly felt like an observer to her own life. Her open mouth bared several pairs of elongated fangs. Blood dripped off her knuckles.

Alchemically modified cultists closed in from every direction, lingering at the very edges of her visibility. They slavered and clacked their jaws. Some grinned uncontrollably. Others stared into space, eyes milky-white, occasionally shuddering.

"I'm a little disappointed," Artur Sykora's voice echoed through the trees. A simple voice-projecting cantrip. "I thought you'd flail about, triggering more. You've got good instincts in a pinch. Not enough to save you, of course, after you made the mistake of hunkering down. I presume you were taking the time to court that walking travesty. But, you know, I get it. I really do. That's all gutter mutts think about, am I right? 'Life is short, so [removed] everything while you can.'" He chuckled.
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Artur. Well, it was not like the list of people who would set up traps around the campsite was particularly extensive, but the voice was just grating to the werewolf's ears, simply because of who it belonged to. Not more than a few words exchanged between the two of them since the last time he tried to kill the wielder of the Eye of Aquarius, but more than enough to bore into his brain as an obnoxious enemy, and everything he said just infuriated Logan further.

"Close! I'll [removed] up everything that lives, starting with your pussy ass!" The werewolf barked furiously back at the attacker, too angered by the butler being hurt to feel embarrassed by Artur's implications. Not that the Sykora was exactly far off from some of Logan's fantasies, but only Twinkle was privy to the lonely wolf's private thoughts.

Twinkle! Going out! Heal and defend! Logan thought quickly and with chopped rush, barely managing out those organized surface thoughts as he fell back on primarily primal behavior. The markings on his face all lit up red, but with an intensity unlike they had before. His form become shrouded in a silver flame with occasional strips of dark red rising with its motion, but he still had some control yet.

Having released the shield and leaving its edge firmly planted into the ground, the spellblade brought another tool from his Eternal Arsenal, a metallic shovel that he stabbed into the ground on the other side of the dragon and the half-vampire before grabbing hold of his pendant and forcing magical energy into it. With enough power sloppily forced into the desired effect, it might prove a bit more draining than safely trying to summon forth the electrical storm above the ger, but he was not expecting to rely much on magic for the coming encounter.

With a small storm crackling and roaring out, striking the land and anything it could without worry, the adventurer began to move out before hesitating and reconsidering his options. Vaska may have been injured, but if she was healed by Logan's small golden companion, then she may prove eager to join the fight. Logan doubled back to grab the cold metal gauntlets from the floor and dropped them by the butler's side on his way out.

Got it! Twinkle replied without comment or question, tending to plying her magic on the half-vampire's wounds while flitting about nervously. She could handle herself well enough, but she had no illusions about her actual size compared to even gnomes. Briefly the dragon stopped for a moment before her eyes, noticing the blood in her eyes and reading the thoughts, Don't beat yourself up, Logan was watching for them and they still snuck up somehow. Let me heal you, then put those blood eyes to use like him, alright?

The werewolf charged a short distance from the tent, barely managing to remember the traps strewn about and cut through the nearly invisible cords with his blade-like claws. They made a satisfying twang as they were disarmed, but the stop to handle them allowed one of the feral humanoids the chance to jump Logan from behind.

"Rabid bastard!" The werewolf growled, blindly reaching back to pry the clinger from his body before they were both struck by a bolt of lightning. For Logan it was completely ineffectual, but for the drugged fodder it was enough of a stunning blast to drop it to the snow, leaving him unencumbered to return to his charge through the snow-covered swamp at his hunter.
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Vaska felt her blood pounding under her ears. She almost couldn't hear anything, much less focus on it beyond the cloud of racing thoughts and wild anger. It felt like years of resentment was bleeding out of her, and she couldn't stop it.

"Heal me," she growled, focused ahead on the shadows moving in the thundersnow storm. As her flesh knitted back in place, Vaska tore off her gloves and cast them aside. Her pasty-white hands were more scar tissue than skin, a few fingers crooked from old injuries. Vaska turned her blood-red eyes toward Twinkle and tapped her own shoulder. "Keep healing me." Whether or not the fly dragon would opt to perch there, the half-vampire set off with no time to waste.

She bent and scooped up the gauntlets as she began the charge. They slipped over her bare hands. Vaska smashed her fists together to push the weapons into place, unleashing another blood-curdling roar as her body disappeared into a converging mess of mutated flesh.

"I'm in no hurry here," Artur's voice echoed from every direction. A crossbow bolt came shooting after Logan, this time from behind him. "You're never going to find me, and I can keep this up all night. Hasn't this been enough of a bother for you? It would be so much easier for you to just hand over the Eye. Then you won't need to see your friends get worn down to nothing."

Right, Twinkle communicated, doing her best to wrap around the butler's neck, My healing isn't great, so try to avoid damage.

Logan howled in pain as the bolt sank into his left shoulder blade, his back a wide open target thanks to assuming he knew where the enemy was. It was a deep stinging pain, but his pride hurt worse. He got sloppy, and that just added red to the lunar flame around him.

"What would you know about friends, asshole?!" The werewolf barked back, trying to reach for the bolt but struggling to get a good enough grip to rip it free from his flesh. It would have to stay for now, "All of yours are drugged!"

He could sense where the crossbow wielding sociopath was. Ever since Daisan, he became very aware of when he was being watched, of where somebody was. He didn't want to be ambushed again, but a fat lot of good that was doing him now. At least he could tell that Artur was teleporting somehow.

Perhaps the bolt would stay, but the adventurer could hinder more from finding their way to him. With a wave of his hand and focus into the amulet, a strong wind began to blow towards the side to disrupt future projectiles.

Mutants went flying past Logan's vision, hitting the snow or crashing into nearby tree trunks. Vaska emerged from a mess of combat with Twinkle curled up around her neck, coils of wind dissipating around her gauntlets. Another wave of enemies was closing in. She didn't pay much attention to the wounds that Twinkle was working on, or the slices in her arms and legs that made patches of her suit hang off her like rags.

"Come out!" she howled.

"Why should I? To make things fair for you? I already told you: I've no interest nor incentive to return to the ghosts of my family. I'm sure the Lakatos vampires felt the same way when they abandoned their pact and left you behind!" Artur burst into a fit of laughter. "Do you want to know why they conspired not to alert you of their plans? Or maybe you can already guess?"

The tail-end of his comments were interrupted by Vaska: "Shut up!"
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Cold was supposed to numb pain, but Logan's blood was running too hot for that, keeping every nerve nice and alive for him to suffer each jostle of the bolt in his back as the wind pressed against it. The red in the flames that covered him grew, but he kept his breathing as collected as he could. Losing his cool against an enemy he could barely keep up with was one thing, but he did not want to give himself to Moon Madness in front of Vaska.

He just needed to focus on Artur, where he was, try to figure out where he was going to be, and--

As much as the werewolf tried to focus, it was difficult to do so as bodies flew past his vision like dolls caught in the storm. Being fairly confident that Artur was not attempting to throw his own minions at his enemies, Logan followed the trajectory back to lay eyes upon the vampire catching in the moment, a vision of refinement enraged. Twinkle was wrapped around her, the soft golden light of healing magic at work glowing against the darkness. The tiny dragon made for a great support in difficult fights, and though he wanted some healing on his own, her magic would do little good if he could not get the bolt out of his hide.

Artur's eyes were off Logan for the moment, onto Vaska most likely as he replied to her call.

"He's getting a rise out of you, Vaska! Don't let him make you sloppy!" Logan shouted to the catgirl. Taunting was a basic tactic, and while he had no problems with responding, it was trying to fight fire with fire. If Vaska could get angry without becoming predictable then that would be one thing, but it looked like the asshole was getting something he wanted from her, "He's teleporting, so stay-- crap!"

The adventurer managed to complete most of the warning before more eyes settled on him. He lost focus again, dropped his guard as he did far too often, and more Jumpers lived up to the name he concocted in is own head for them. The first did not real damage, simply jumping onto his back and clinging tight as the werewolf thrashed within its grasp, but he turned to find two more barreling straight for him with bestial vigor.

Stupid, bestial, uncoordinated vigor.

The werewolf turned, grabbing hold of his unwelcome rider with one hand and gesturing quickly with the other.

"Kjalkakjot svo fljotlega ao bu sero bao aldrei!"

With the incantation cast, a bolt of icy blue energy shot from his free hand towards the ground behind him and between his three assailants. The spell burst with chilling power threaded with electrical shock as it struck the snow-covered swamp, exploding outwards. The mutants collapsed for the moment, including the first falling from Logan's back into the snow.

"At least take the bolt with you, damn!" The werewolf cursed at the stunned minion, the red in his corona dying down as he brought his goggles before his eyes. Even if Artur was not looking at him, he should still emit enough of a mana signature past the control winds spell to be found, "C'mon asshole! Sit still so I can give you a great big hug around your scrawny neck! And stop harassing my catgirl-- friend! I meant friend!"
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Vaska
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Vampires with the same strain as hers, called samotaric vampires, were nothing better than leeches. Without a proper contract with a stronger partner, they'd likely be found in their frail little bat forms licking drops of blood off the ankles of cows, minds devolving from a mixture of hunger and hypervigilance. Everything good in their lives -- from a comfortable bed to a nice suit of clothing to wear -- came because of other, more powerful individuals. Vaska had been told to never, ever forget that.

So it perplexed her why every single vampire in her colony decided to abandon the Sykora estate as soon as they murdered each other. They had to have known a family of demons wasn't going to simply cease to exist after losing their material bodies. Vaska thought about all of this even while she continued to rip into their opponents with metal-plated, elemental-powered fists.

It wasn't good to fight distracted.

She made a bad judgment call and took a mutated fist to the gut so hard that she went flying. Vaska hit the ground hard, skidded through the snow -- sending powder in every direction -- and then rolled onto her back as she stopped. Vaska remained there for only a moment before her reflexes kicked in. She rolled to the side moments before one of the alchemically-altered cultists fell off Logan's back and would've crushed her.

The half-vampire rolled onto her feet and trudged a couple steps through the snow to get closer to Logan. Without fanfare, she grabbed the crossbow bolt sticking out of his hide and gave it a good, twisting pull. The broadhead came out in a burst of blood.

"If you claim to know so much about the Lakatos colony, Artur, why don't you tell me where they were heading so I can ask them myself?" Vaska was standing a bit bent over, a free hand pressed over her beaten stomach. Still, she moved with the fight, putting herself in a position to cover behind Logan.

"I'll tell you if you make your furry friend hand over the Eye of Aquarius!" the Sykora shouted back.

"I thought it'd be worth a shot to ask, since you won't stop talking," Vaska rumbled, clenching her fists.
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Logan
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The werewolf howled in pain, a sound somewhere between bestial wrath and a human cry of agony echoing out into the gloomwood swamp as the bolt was unceremoniously removed from his back. In a moment of primal response the moon-like corona that he was engulfed in burst with streaks of red like a flame corrupted, lasting only a second but turning about half of it red before returning to silver with a few flecks of crimson as he came to appreciate the emptied injury and the vampire girl who had removed it. It was far better to have a hole in his shoulder than a stick hanging out of it, agitating the wound with every stroke of wind or jostle of movement in the midst of battle.

As the blood came from the new wound with the removal of the cause, the boiling hot life fluid spilled onto the snow below unnoticed, melting the small bit it landed on before freezing shortly after like the rest.

"Thanks." Logan growled appreciatively as the red died down from his corona. The pain, for him, acted like a moment's shock to refocus his mind. He considered the words he tried to utter a moment ago, Artur playing Vaska easier than the adventurer. Logan was an adventurer used to exchanging some bits of wits with others, catching and dishing insults and ego blows, but the asshole alchemist knew the butler better, knew how to push her buttons. There was no need of the werewolf to sport confidence, nor even really to use his goggles to hunt his enemy, though those were more of a crutch to him through a lot of continued use, "Vaska! Slip off a gauntlet. I'm gonna give you some stuff while you're nearby."

"Fine," She growled.

"Yeah, I hope I'm right." Logan huffed, quickly fumbling the bangle off of his own arms and over hers. He hoped that the confidence boost from the enchantment would help her handle the stinging words a little better, or it could just made her feel a lot more confident about hunting down Artur and killing him violently. Honestly, psychic enchantments were always a bit of a gamble based on the individual, but it was worth a shot. Shortly after that, the adventurer took the goggles from off the top of his head and quickly strapped them over the half-vampire's eyes, "There, you should be able to see his mana signature in the trees. We need to hunt him down fast if he's got a replication quiver, but he's definitely teleporting. And don't banter if you're angry."

With that word of warning shared along with the pieces of equipment, the adventurer focused for a moment as Artur teleported around before he seemed to linger in a spot for a moment. With Vaska being so thankfully close, it as easy for the werewolf to pick up on where their enemy was, and by his best guess there was another bolt incoming shortly.

Without saying another word, Logan began sprinting in a hunch towards the marksman's current location, furiously knocking another attack person out of the way and changing the direction of the wind to once against interfere with the aim. It was strange, he could swear that he knew where the demon-catguy was, but even with his vision seeing clearly through the ethereal darkness, he could not actually get a visual on the foe through the trees. Something was off, but before Logna could get a proper guess or get close enough to his target, Artur was gone once again, leaving the charging werewolf to slide to a stop through the snow, looking around frantically for the vanishing foe.

"I can't see him!" Logan growled loudly, "The yellow-bellied bastard keeps disappearing! F-[removed]! Is he invisible, too?!"

The implications of invisibility were just another problem. Logan had no way to confirm, and maybe the Sykora was just hiding very cleverly, perhaps Shadowdancing, but the specifics hardly mattered if he could not be seen or approached directly, and planning in the middle of a fight was a skill that even the experienced adventurer had trouble getting a grasp on, rage fueling most of his actions and his thoughts devolving closer to primal instinct.
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