As it would seem Rebecca had made the grievous assumption that the fledglings who accompanied the vampire Varomere were in fact not of the alleged SOLDIER faction, but in fact the enemy itself.  Luckily her sapphic and oh so sensual display of love for her darling Camille was not merely a chiding jest in their direction but indeed the powerful woman working her charms upon the ravenous and lascivious crowds crooning about, calming them into an oh so perfect submission...for the time being.  Yet such charm was broken once the vampire Varomere turned to the three hungry newbloods and cast upon them the fear of death in his fierce, gilded eyes blazing with such a fire to scorch their very souls into the depths of Hell itself.  Rebecca remained vigilant, her blade in her hand at the ready and her shadows swirling and snaking about her flesh as some defensive armor against their claws and their venomous fangs, not that neither would carry any repercussions, as the woman herself was far from mortal, same as the thrall lovestruck and slouched against her slowly recovering from an apparent overtaking of passion in her body.  

The battle was quick, erupting in a flurry of shouts and curses and the flashing and flitting of several bloody blades, and so it ended just as swift with not one standing but the three combatants valiantly wielding their honed weapons and evenly honed skills which the trio displayed with the utmost finesse and brutality.  It was in this apparent ceasefire that Rebecca sheathed her blade and instructed Camille to do the same, returning her scythe to some unforeseen void between the threads of time and space until she needed of her weapon once again.  The youngling soon returned to her lady's side, the surge of adrenaline that once pumped through her veins now fading as she yawned sweetly and stretched her frail limbs, quite astounding she wielded such a heavy blade with those small arms of hers.  The feline-like ferocity of her eyes had also shifted back to those soft demure shades of emerald, evident of the girl's tiredness.  However, she still had a bit of youthful energy left, evident by her sudden surprised squeak, [color=f49ac2]"Ah!  What a cute bird!"[/color]

Rebecca knew not of the foreboding raven in the presence of her and Varomere, at least not until her thrall's childish curiosity and excitement pulled her attention towards it.  Suddenly the woman gave a swift command, [color=ed1c24]"Darling, do not touch that raven!"[/color] And pulled Camille away from it by her arm, a protective arm wrapped around her and her blade once more summoned to her hardened hand.  A bird that spoke with the voice of man, uncommon, certainly out of place even for a town swarming with the undead scourge, and yet not out of place as the woman caught that faint, familiar scent upon her nose, a scent...of bloodlust.  It was clear what, or rather whom, this dark feathered avian of the boneyards was.  Nevertheless the elder woman kept her composure, yet seethed on the inside to immediately quarter the foul creature without a moment's hesitation.  She listened to the two speak, Varomere and the raven, taking a keen interest in the words exchanged and the meaning behind them.  It appeared obvious the two had met beforehand and a lordship of sorts was struck between Varomere and this apparent sire masquerading as a mere eater of the dead.  

A bit out of tune with the world was she listening to these two speak back and forth, that she did not recognize the fledgling Varomere had skewered with his arrow had stirred as Lazarus from his sepulcher.  And with the revolting and sudden twitch of its nerves wrenching back to life, so too did Rebecca's own nerves twitch and ever so sudden the bastard had found a small yet robust blade of silver protruding from his severed jugular vein as he choked out his final utterances to the vampire and drowned upon his own ill-scented blood.  Rebecca removed her sword from the creature and nonchalantly she wiped her blade against what shreds of fabric remained to clothe her, a bitter scowl and the darkening of her eyes to boot, [color=ed1c24]"Your vernacular is indeed charming and quite regal, Nosferatu."[/color] She spoke directly to the raven, her eyes of polar blue glaring into the glossy ebony beads flickering at her.  [color=ed1c24]"But the words you speak, they're appalling to me.  I will not arbitrate, nor will I abdicate my reasons for the slaughter of these wretched vermin that now lie festering in ashes.  For I have an age old score to settle with my damned adversary, a vendetta you would say, that stretches as far back to the days of yore, when artists, poets, and bards were at the peak of enlightenment."[/color]

A bit flamboyant she twirled her sabre before continuing, this time turning towards the male at her side, [color=ed1c24]"Who am I you ask, Varomere?  You have heard my name spoken, or rather howled with a blood curdling disdain from these bastard sons of Cain.  I am the kinslayer, a Nosferatu who murders her own kind, and why you may inquire?  Why is it that I, a creature of the dark herself slays those who but carry the same bloodline as her?  For as the Purge, the religious zealots they are, I too wish to see this curse abolished, cleansed from the loving hands of the Earth Mother and never to blemish and irritate her flesh once more with pestilence.  That is the score I desire to settle.  It began with him, that loathsome cur who forced himself upon me and violated my sanctity, ah but before that...he had the guile, the tenacity to slaughter my own kin before my waking eyes.  Now, I but return the favor, but it shall not end with his final gasp for life, but for that of the last beast who falls to my blade."[/color]

And without warning yet again her blade was to Varomere's neck by a mere inch, [color=ed1c24]"And what say you, Sir Varomere?  Should my blade taste your putrid blood as well?  For it seems you are in debt to the raven who speaks man's word, your Lord no less I presume."[/color]

[color=f49ac2]"M-mistress!  Wait!"[/color]  Shakily her thrall spoke up, the fear apparent in her quavering voice and of course in her dazzling verdant eyes glimmering amidst the dim firelight.  [color=f49ac2]"Mister Varomere helped us!  Don't kill him!"[/color]

[color=ed1c24]"Silence my dear!"[/color] Sharply Rebecca reprimanded her servant, though keeping her blade sharp upon the male and not hindering once to him.  [color=ed1c24]"He aided us in battle, of course, but only to satisfy his own needs in the end, or that of his Lord."[/color]  

Camille, she...she didn't know what else to say, trembling and timidly gnawing at her bottom lip, she clasped her arms around herself and merely stood by hesitantly....knowing well in her heart one of these two powerful vampires would soon attack...and the rest...would divulge into bloodshed.