<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/kelvAk2.jpg)<br/>Tanith Reis (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=270602.msg13336046#msg13336046)<br/><strong>HP:</strong> 75<br/><strong>AC:</strong> 31<br/><strong>Major Aura:</strong> None<br/><strong>Minor Aura:</strong> None<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> Open<br/><hr/></div>The clashing of steel rang out through the night, the stench of blood and death thick in the air. Nauseatingly, so. Not nearly as much as the presence of the abomination they called their foe, as far as the paladin was concerned. As the battle raged, Tanith shouted out to her comrades each time she spotted an opening, rushing to exploit it, but every time, it seemed the monster was merely toying with them. She brought to bear every weapon in her arsenal of holy magicks and vampire hunting tools. She had slain plenty of vampires in her time, so why was this one beast giving them such trouble? It was as though they were facing the very incarnation of hell's wrath upon man. It infuriated her. Her blood boiled. This creature would die if it took everything she had in her. This world would be cleansed of his vile stench.<br/><br/>The more the battle dragged on, the more she fed into this growing anger, this seething hatred. She grew sloppy, and not just from exhaustion. She communicated less and less with the rest of her party, and began lashing out angrily, furiously, even when there was no opening, battering away at the beast, attempting to overwhelm him with a brutal onslaught. One might mistake her for a barbarian, the way she fought, rather than a holy knight. Yet the beast never seemed to give an inch to her attacks. Finally she hefted up her great silver blade and lunged forward, letting out a wrothful cry as she brought it down with all her might. A sharp, angry noise cut through the air, and her hands suddenly felt much lighter. She barely had time to process the sight of a broken silver blade flying through the air and landing in the distance before she felt herself flying through the air, hitting something behind her with a dull crack. She tried to pull herself back up to her feet, but her body just wasn't responding. Her vision began to fade, her last thoughts filled with pure hatred for the monster fading from her sight.<br/><br/>Then she woke up.<br/><br/>Her eyes flung open, her body shooting up straight. She felt disoriented, sick, very sick. As if some illness had crept into her veins and gutted her whole. More than sick, she felt... wrong. Something was wrong. Everything was wrong. It was as if her very soul was ill. The light was too bright, colors too vibrant, smells too strong, sounds too distinct. She took deep breaths to try and clear her head, but it was as if the air itself was dead, offering nothing to her. Her heartbeat felt off... was it beating too fast? ... no, quite the opposite. She couldn't feel it beating at all...<br/><br/>And then she saw him standing before them; the beast himself. She had no more time to contemplate what sorcery was at work here. She shot to her feet faster than she knew herself capable of moving, her hand reaching instinctively for where she would normally have her greatsword holstered on her back, but found it empty. The memory returned to her of watching the sundered silver blade hurtling through the air. She grit her teeth, still uncertain how that battle had resolved itself. How they stood here now, as their enemy stood before them. She had no time to dwell on it. She closed her eyes. If she had no sword, she would have to rely on her paladin disciplines. She tried to focus her mind, to draw on the power of the gods to smite this vile creature. And yet... nothing. She could feel naught of her connection with the gods. Try as she might, she felt... alone, as a child abandoned in the street. Had the gods truly abandoned her? No. This creature, he was blocking her powers somehow, she felt certain of that.<br/><br/>In desperation, she reached for an object resting at her hip. A hilt with no blade. A relic recovered from one of the vampire lords they had slain together. She pressed a small stud on the object, grasping it in two hands as a great and wicked blade erupted from the handle. Gritting her teeth in preparation, she watched as profane energy began to swirl and crackle about the blade. She knew from experience that any living being holding the active blade would have their stamina sapped away... and yet curiously, she felt nothing. She felt a shiver run down her spine, a welling sense of dread building up inside of her. A part of her knew. A part of her, deep down inside, knew what had happened, the one thing that would explain everything. But she refused. She launched herself forward, a hatred like she had never known before burning inside of her as she swung that vile blade through the air, aiming to cleave the creature in half...<br/><br/>She stopped. Frozen in place. Shame and guilt swelled in her heart, a powerful sense that she had done something unfathomably WRONG for trying to attack him. It only confirmed what she was trying to deny. She fought against it, silently screaming for her body to MOVE. And yet she could not will herself to strike him. She could feel tears streaming down her face as desperation and anguish, not to mention the waves of guilt threatened to overwhelm her. The sword fell from her hands and she collapsed to her knees, unable to restrain herself from breaking down into a sobbing fit. The veteran vampire hunter could no longer deny what had happened to them. She reached a gauntlet-clad hand up to her face to wipe away her tears, turning her hand to look at it, now smeared with the crimson blood running down her face.