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Damon Cal's fangs were met with Nicomede's own. 

The knight's lips curled back in a snarl of hatred entirely unfeigned. No psychological warfare, no tactic to bolster his own morale, only a singular distaste for the man before him. No, for the monster; whatever the man had been in life, whatever he [i]could[/i] have been as he was, he had chosen to be a monster entirely independent of his new state. Unforgivable. Nicomede would grant, if pushed, that perhaps his condition wasn't his fault. Reon recognized it.

But in this instant he didn't care.

The finer points of the morality and the ethics of vampirism were entirely irrelevant compared to the fact that Damon Cal had become a monster by actions, and at the end of the day Mayon decreed that monsters were to be stopped. Innocents were to be protected. And that was for a Knight to do. There was a natural time to die, for a man to meet his maker. And when that day came he would face it with a courage that no man too afraid to die could ever match. 

And that was why Damon Cal held no fear for Nicomede. For his speed, his strength, his unholy longevity he was a [i]coward[/i] and no Knight would ever be killed by a coward. Mayon, his own movements spoke of it! No, supernatural or not there was no match for simple skill. Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast. Efficiency trumps speed every time. 

[color=aa0404]"I don't care who you are. I'll happily settle for dead."[/color]

Nicomede flowed forward opposite the direction of Fleuri's swing, going towards and slightly past the other knight at a rapid clip. If the vampire attempted to flee away from the swing he would be driven straight into Nicomede's waiting arms, and if he fell back he surrendered the initiative. If he [i]caught[/i] the strike, well, that was fine too.

Because his [i]spada[/i] was whipping out from the opposite direction to slice the muscles behind the vampire's knee. He would regenerate, sure; but he would be out the use of his back, and thus stabilizing, leg for at least a moment. More than enough time to continue to follow up. 

Precision was a power all its own.