A terrible growl would rip from Morgan's throat as the blue coated woman yet again avoided his onslaught, the magical barrier knocking him back with incredible force. While there would be small satisfaction at the ward breaking under his mighty blow, the vampire's rage would only grow. [i]'How does she keep blocking me?!'[/i] The ricocheted blow did cause the vampire to stagger back a pace, but the sniffer's reflexes acted fast. The vampire did not fight the force that pushed him away, but instead rolled with the repelled energy, using the momentum to take a second chance at landing a bone crunching blow upon his prey.

But yet again, the vampire missed, the agility of his opponent forcing his weapon to swing at empty air. A scream of rage split the air as Morgan took a step back, wary of the second sword that seemed to magically appear in her hand, the sinister, almost demonic blade's tip pointed in his direction. Recklessly, he would bat away the weapon, attempting another swing of his studded weapon, but she was too quick. With this third miss, Morgan cast his weapon aside and went at the woman with his bare hands, the lust of blood overcoming any sense of logic that would have warned him not to do otherwise against an opponent that was obviously skilled in the art of battle. It would be too late for the vampire to notice the light forming at her booted feet and wrapping itself around her legs as he managed to grab the loose "tail" of her coat. However, the sheer force of her upward descent would cause Morgan to fall flat on his face as his gloved hand lost its grip and sent the vampire sprawling into the dust. With another rage-filled scream, the sniffer would claw that the empty air above him as scrabbled to his feet, red-filled eyes never looking away from their target. "I [b]will[/b] taste your blood, [b]demonspawn[/b]]!" Morgan would gather his staff in hand, already making his way to the alley wall to find his first hand hold, but something broke his fury-filled pursuit, if not for an instant, "Look out!" The warning was hoarse, loud - it grated the vampire's ears. His head would snap to look over his shoulder, the source of the injured throat coming from the sellsword. Morgan sneered )(though the expression would be lost behind his mask) and was about to spit an insult at the hooded man when the audible sound of flesh being punctured filled the air. 

A rain of blood spattered down on Morgan as instantly looked upward to see his quarry plummeting down to the alley floor, landing heavily on a spike-like weapon. There would be a brief moment of silence from the vampire, red eyes watching the sellsword inspect the once alive-and-fighting woman at their feet. Morgan had been cheated of his kill, and he knew it. Smoldering eyes were already scanning upward, accusingly glaring at the walls, the crevices, any place that an unwanted fourth party had taken his prey. Suddenly, a voice provided an answer to the angry vampire:

[b]"Fin'ly she drew it," a male voice called from a nearby rooftop as her vision faded, sounding amused and happy. Her swords clattered to the ground near her; her enemies would be very close. It did not matter. She was defenseless. Defeated. Dead. "Di'n't wanna hav'ta save 'er. Easier this way. One down, eleven to go."[/b]

"Who do you think you are?!" Morgan would shout to the unknown figure, a gloved hand shaking in the direction of the male voice, the leather clenched in anger, "Taking the life that belonged to my hand?!" Red eyes would be cast upon the fallen woman, and now the sellsword, who had leaned the woman her side, removing the spike as he did. A frustrated hiss issued from Morgan's mouth as he looked skyward once more, his mind becoming more clear that his prey, for better or worse, lay dead at his feet. [i]'He took my satisfaction, my revenge... son of a tarke.[/i].

Morgan began to turn to the sellsword, to ask a question of anger and to take the spike that he had removed, but the hooded man had vanished. All that remained was the cooling corpse of the blue-coated woman. "Well..." the vampire would remark, a dark smile forming behind his mask, "...I did say I would taste your blood, demonspawn." Grabbing the woman by her coat's collar while simultaneously lifting the bottom part of his mask, Morgan could feet his pupils expanding as jaws wrapped around the woman's neck, feasting in full swing.

The blood was warm and oozed in and around the vicelike grip his jaw was providing. A smile behind the bloody opening began to form. The pleasure behind the oozing sensation was one that could never be replaced, the feeling would be soon mixed with skin searing pain at his jaw. The jaw remained stubbornly clamped however, as skin began to peel and burn, the hunger called to him. Or was it more than that? The demand of satisfaction, of demeaning the woman that had made him feel mortal fear, an emotion he hoped he would never have to feel again. [i]'Curse this woman's soul...[/i] Morgan would think bitterly as his closed his eyes in attempts to ignore the evergrowing pain that was quickly absorbing his jaw's flesh. But the vampire would quickly realize no amount of draining of the surprisingly bitter blood and no amount of punishment wrought by the sun's rays would bring him the full satisfaction he had craved when he first attacked. Casting aside the corpse like an unwanted play thing in an annoyed manner, and slowly painfully lowering his mask with his through clenched mouth, Morgan's dilated eyes refocused on to the rooftop's edge that towered above him. [i]'Perhaps he can provide it...[/i] The vampire began to climb, a familiar voice echoed in the narrow space, his words reaching the ascending vampire's, hand climbing over foot:

[b]“Well done,” he jeered at the man, eyes scanning for them. “I never knew cowards are brave enough to attack someone, despite the fact that you attacked my opponent from behind.”[/b]

If Morgan positioned himself correctly, the vampire would eventually emerge from the alley, crawling over the roof top's edge, (hopefully) opposite of sellsword and the mysterious male. All senses would be opened wide, attempting to read both men and their energy as the pre-duel banter continued...