"Ah most excellent then," The old vampire then turned to his enthralled human, "Unfortunately for you, it appears your services are no longer required."

At those words the human seemed to have paled slightly, though unable to resist the voice of the vampire, the blood ran cold from his veins. Well, perhaps rather it ran out, as he found himself attacked by younger vampires who had scarcely held self-control over their own hunger the very moment the human walked in the room. Perhaps it was fear which gripped their desires to sink into the museum curator's flesh, or perhaps it was resect. Either way, it was shortly after Lord Bedivere suggested his disinterest at the human servant did they take the hint to freely feast upon it as the screams of the thrall echoed deep below. Like wolves to a lamb, they descended upon him, a frenzy of flailing limbs and desecration. Feral children of the night.

"Now Lord Shane, in company of such uncouth, expendable younglings, is a proper strategy even required? I hardly believe this outpost is equipped to handle our current numbers, let alone an elder such as yourself. Henceforth, I move to make a notion to begin the attack, as night has fallen upon us." The knight's shape changed form as he finished, his clothing twisting itself to match as cloth became broke and became down which turned into blackened feathers, and his leather oxfords elongated and became tipped with claws before splitting. The coattails of his suit extended itself and fanned out, the briefcase and umbrella merged into his sleeves as they became wings and soon Bedivere took the form of a raven which perched itself upon the horrified face of the exsanguinated body of the curator.

With the flutter of black wings, the vampire took to the skies and the night.