Mithias ran out of the Bannered Mare, completely oblivious to the vampire above him. He slowed as he got closer to the main gate where fighting was already going on, well, not so much fighting as much as humans helplessly getting killed. He paused strategically in the shadows to access the raiders. Glass swords gleamed in the colorless white light of the moon while glassy golden orbs pierced the darkness. What Mithias saw shocked him. These were no mere bandits. Bandits were not nearly so deadly and would have been far more merciful. His mind raced over what he was seeing and what he should do about it. He couldn't come to a conclusion and was in essence frozen by the sight of other vampires. 

A sharp jerk on his left blade startled him, and he instantly moved his focus in that direction. The sight of a tall, well dressed man atop the well post caused him to gasp in surprise. His alabaster hands came forward, bringing up his swords in a ready stance, and he watched. Perhaps it was the reaction of a highly trained warrior, to wait for the opponent to be the first to give away their secrets, to refrain from running or attacking without a plan. But no, the truth was far simpler. Mithias' eyes shifted between Lucan's hands, and that alone revealed too much. He had no idea how to deal with magic. 

But the hand Mithias had brought to the table tonight was lucky. He wasn't merely one of the masses. He wasn't here to defend the Jarl, or join the companions, or defend some mortal house. He was someone else, something else, and now he had found others like him. He just hoped they didn't kill him before he could get some answers. 

A strand of hair crossed one eye in the wind as he exhaled slowly, slower than any human would have been breathing, but it did nothing to deter his stare at Lucan. The mage was slightly above his immediate reach, but he was sure he was not out of the mage's reach. Any rash action would have been a bad idea, yet fear didn't seize him so much as urgent curiosity. The perched vampire seemed to be smiling at him, enjoying the tense moment. 

"You're... You're vampires." As soon as he spoke, his words seemed so obvious, yet he himself had just come to the conclusion. The accusation was however, different than it usually sounded coming from anyone else. It held none of the typical malice and instead carried the tone of innocence. Mithias followed, "Who are you?"