[center][h1][color=#B5A642][b]Dragan Meszaros[/b][/color][/h1][/center]

A somewhat familiar sound clattered through Dragan's ears after he returned his fellows' greetings, with him taking but a moment to recognize what it was. Firearms. He wasn't exactly unfamiliar with them, but they'd not factored into his tactics much. The kingdom he'd conquered had made use of a few, but they hadn't been enough to turn the tide against his undead hordes. Still, that meant the city was populated. Not much of a safe haven as it once was, but it was something, at least. 

[color=#B5A642][b]"I believe it would be best for us to recover our strength, even if we must resort to beasts over man for the moment. We can hardly serve the Goddess fresh out of torpor, weakened as we are."[/b][/color] Dragan replied to Ilena, deciding on pragmatism over taste. He could already tell that his abilities were heavily diminished from what they were. In his current state, Dragan doubted he could raise more than a dozen undead in an instant, where once he'd be able to reanimate several times that number. 

Unfortunately, the being that appeared before them was hardly a viable candidate for being fed from, even with his lowered standards. For one, it was a fellow vampire. The smell of rotten blood at least meant that this wretch could be slain without issue, whether it be from degenerating into a lowly beast or having incurred the Goddess's disfavor. Or, quite possibly, both. 

[color=#B5A642][b]"Pitiful. I'll dispose of this one, and we can be on our way."[/b][/color] Dragan sniffed down at the undead, forming a crimson rapier with blood magic to clutch in his hand. Not his preferred choice of armament, but a smaller weapon meant less blood used, and he needed to save as much as he could at the moment. He lunged forward, intending on staking the lesser undead through the chest.