Tetradore was a terribly predictable creature. She'd known his emotional range was perhaps akin to a goldfish and a teenager, unwilling to cooperate without proper motivation. Then again, she found her progeny and pets foolishly and disappointing creatures. Tonight was no different as Tetradore's features took on that typical vacant stare of his, a masked look he had all but mastered over the years. While her generous lover offered him a choice of how he preferred to battle, Risque stripped it away, he would be of more use in his deadly feline form. Tetradore wandered off to follow out the order to shift as the vampire queen slid toward Darcy's side, uttering her suspicions of Cade as the battle carried on below. A battle, if it could even be called one. Their own side highly outmatched Cade's spectacularly. A waste of time. How Risque preferred to calculate and hit hard, wiping those who opposed her off the map as if she were an apocalyptic storm. She nodded sharply to Darcy's agreeable response, but her slicing gaze peered out toward the chaos. "An appetizer before the feast." This wasn't all. She knew it was only the beginning. A mere interlude to what was to come. It was strange to see Syn this way, surrounded by enemies, the building was so often seen as sacred. Very few dared to breach its walls... up until the beginnings of this war.
Yet one thing was for certain, cade and his dogs were no match for her honed arsenal. This, to her, this inconvenience, would be the perfect stage to put them all to the test. Let the weak perish with their own and let the strongest be tested in this bloody war. Risque focused upon her first unit of felines, refusing to send them all out at once but more like the way a cat toys with yarn. After all, that was all that this first wave had been worth. Until the first sign of a threat combed through and she had sent out her pet to dispose of skilled vampires that began to pick off the army of tigers that were being picked off. Surely, Tetradore would make quick work of him. Risque decided to ensure he did not grow complacent. He needed a purpose, a job. Darcy, however, was far more content to make himself useful, picking off vampires with a simple apt shot. Even with vampiric speed, they were no match for his guns or the others that aided in this task. All while Risque idly threw her throwing stars at the stragglers. It was almost boring, predictable.
All of this... money and preparation for what? Target practice? All of this, risen from bed and rushed for this? She expected more. Especially clad in that custom leather made-for-battle suit that clung to her figure. The well-thought out attire had been made specifically for this, to not hinder her movements in any way. The glinting silver spikes that adorned it were all for show and perhaps for anyone who made it close enough would only then feel the unforgivable burn. Yet, if it maintained his sluggish pace, this would be over in a hour before she had even felt the first needle prick of exertion.
Cade was here, she knew it. Giving orders. Laying in wait. How tempted she was to rip through the masses and simply find him. To flush him out. He wanted her. He could come and get her! It was almost like he could feel the shift of thought because not even moments later, the second wave struck.
That warning of a yelp was silenced by that first brutal beheading drew her attention. Older vampires on the opposing sides were swiftly scaling the walls on the opposite side, which meant they had cut through some of their own defenses. Risque sent more of her cats to wrap around the building... there was a breach somewhere. How she wished to find the source where they had been coming from only to find a battle of her own. His power rolled off of him much like one could feel the power off of an angry barbarian, just as he looked. He wore the blood of another. Whose blood of her own did he rip into? She straightened as she pivoted to face him, a throwing star within her hand, it would be a shame to let it go to waste as she sent it sailing through the air. It made its mark. The blade moving to embed itself inside of the hulk of a man's chest. Yet as to be expected, the man roared, his fury overpowering his reason. Men like him didn't take much to send them into that blind rage, a stupefied rage she had known to expect. They were much easier to kill that way.
Everyone seemed deep within their own battles. Lorelai leapt into action to defend her own spot upon that rooftop. Darcy fired his gun rapidly, those bullets sailing and meeting target after target, never missing his mark and Tetradore remained below, acting out her command and undoubtedly facing no shortage of enemies. That large vampire had all but charged after her like a raging bull seeing a flash of red. Risque was ready. She was faster, using her vampiric speed to dart poised, leap and sailed through the air as if she flew. She had reached for her silver whip with the sharpened blade at the end, it unfurled to its full length as she used it to ensnare around his meaty throat, that bladed tip digging in as it was designed to do so, that silver wrapped around him as she used supernatural strength to tug harder. The man all but clawed at his throat but it was too late, the wide spray of blood and choking cries caused by that silver that also burned as well as cut, caused the oaf to flail... focused on trying to get it off of him rather than be aware of the larger threat. Her. He was much too large to decapitate him this way, including the time it would have taken. It would be much too awkward. Pity. Risque was already behind him, prowling like one of her cats. Wounded like an animal, his movement too predictable and slow. She supposed this would be the perfect warm-up.
She didn't need it, but how her powers wanted to burst free, as if tired of being dormant. That affinity for torment slithered forward as it needled and hooked like a beast scenting its first victim with hunger. It was simple and uninspired. But it would do. She gave him nothing. Sensory deprivation, only it was an illusion of that. He flailed madly from pain and then panicked from fear. She encased him in his own private hell. How she would have relished in a more prolonged death and yet with those fresh, powerful vampires coming... She had to make this quick. A new vampire tried to launch himself at her making him no more than an interruption. She could hear him coming, her silver-clawed fingertipped hand shot out rapidly plunging into his chest, using the momentum of his attack against him as she ripped his heart from his chest. She idly tossed it away, tugging the whip with the barbarian vampire still attached to send him off balance, but ensuring its tautness. It was all executed in a blur of speed. The heartless vampire's face remained stunned, even as he fell. His head collided next to her boot that she stomped and shoved with great force to crush his skull. As if removing his heart wasn't enough. The sound of it crunching was brutal and sickening as brain matter, blood and broken bone became nothing more than a pulverized paste. All it took was once for her foot to meet the solid ground below to ground the vampire into the cement below. But her attention was not on the gore that already painted the space around her but the large man who chanted, his voice garbled from the silver whip that maimed his throat. What was he saying? The illusion of complete sensory deprivation making him wild. A wet grating sound of a voice escaped him with far more force than she thought possible. 'WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?'
Always the wrong question. Always. The correct question was 'What are you going to do to me?' No, instead he asked something all too obvious. Unworthy of a response. She would just need to just get to the killing then. She sighed in obvious disappointment and yet reached to clasp one of the blades strapped to her leg, a crescent moon, curved blade, intricate and beautiful as it was as efficient and deadly. He couldn't see where she was coming as she pulled the whip that remained like an embedded tether, giving him an inkling where she stood. His erratic arms failed in tight fists as if he thought he might actually make contact when she could see. His movements only offered him little freedom until she pulled him sharply back. The silver coiled whip around his neck twisted with a flick of her wrist to pull him backwards, closer to her. Yet the bastard refused to fall. But she meant to remedy that.
Her other hand held that curved blade cleaved right into his skull with brutal precision, if only she had more movement, more speed it could have sliced all the way through. Perhaps his head was thicker than she thought, the thought seemed to amuse her as the giant of a man fell like a tree, rigid and loud. She released her grasp upon the hilt, letting it fall with him. Allowing the whip to go slack, made it easier to remove with a freeing yank. The wound it left behind on his throat looked more like a grotesque second, wide bloodied mouth. Risque hardly wished to fiddle with the blade still embedded within his head but she stepped easily forward to place that bloodied boot full of whatever gore of his fallen comrade's skull to press into his chest. How she disliked being hurried in her torturous tendencies. But there were many left to die still. Of that, she was sure. The she-devil stood over him, he was unmoving and yet even still, the damage that was done might not be enough to keep him dead after the blade was removed. Her cold, pale eyes looked down upon the male vampire as she eyed the gaping wound. They would be burned with the rest come morning. Only at that final assessment, did she felt satisfied to leave the two bodies where they lay. Her gaze surveyed for more, finding none, she scuffed her foot to remove some of the gore that found its way between the tread.
Childsplay. She thought only followed by the want for more.
The world could have been doused in a delightful horrific haze of blood with how thick it stained the air. It incensed her hunger and yet even in battle she felt far too picky with her choice of a worthy meal. The sounds of death heard all around her as she seemed determined to find her next victim. Darcy had collided within his own violent fray, his gun replaced with brawn for now. Doing what he was designed to do. Ravage. Destroy. Rip apart. He might as well have been as brutal as any unreasonable beast as he moved. Tetradore, she knew had it in him too... Yet he fought with his usual aloofness as if defiant even as he obeyed. Her people fought in isolated battles, keeping off Cade's next assault at bay as she searched for her next victim only to be met with the more commanding, abrasive sound of dogs drawing closer, the very sound of them alluded to their size. Barking, How she loathed the sound of it and it was incessant. It grated against her last nerve. There was a reason why she hated dogs. They smelled, they were loud, intrusive in every way.
Risque just walked away from her pile of corpses as Darcy drew near, his words had her slowly turning to face him. More dogs meant more of her own felines. His assessment made perfect sense. But it was the mention of attacking mops that caused her to look to capture a glimpse of the ridiculous description. That was when she caught sight of a white one. What filthy, vile creatures. With only a mere dip of her head in recognition she sent out more of her felines, this unit far more tactical than that of her first wave. It consisted more of weres.
Killer mops seemed, accurate. That creature was atrocious. It hardly looked like a canine at all, it was only a blob of filthy matted hair. Ridiculous. She could practically smell them from here. More of them were coming. They were enormous beasts. Those dreadlocks proved to be like armour. Where had Cade been hiding those mutant creatures? Darcy didn't wait for her to speak as he went to Tetradore's aid as if he had seen something that demanded his attention. Had Tetradore found himself in hot water? "Unless those dreadlocks are made from steel, your guns should pierce them." She hissed to deaf ears. The world had gone mad around her clearly. Was she the only one thinking clearly?
All she needed were for her felines to set them off their feet... to maim them. They would be far less a threat, easier to pick off. The commotion below. "Lorelai. Pick off the dogs my cats target. Aim for their heads." Risque ordered coldly and to the point, her voice like the snap of a vengeful commanding whip. The command in her tone already rivalled by her magic that reached out for more of her felines. "End them." Red lips formed to utter those two words to no one in particular. That was when she felt the shift of power like an oncoming storm.
It crept forth and yet it was no less lethal as it rolled in. A taste of true power hung within the thick air. She followed it like a trail of bread crumbs toward the source. On the opposite side, she could see a glimpse of Cade behind a wall of his own men as if baiting her. It would seem that he was aware of her too as his eyes were only upon her. It was an obvious trap and yet what an opportunity it could be. But she was patient, well usually. Fully willing to wait out her victim but none of that patience seemed to find her at that moment.
She stepped up upon the raised ledge, pale eyes gleamed with malice as she rose a taloned hand to point at him. Right at him as if the sharpened tip could pierce right through his forehead. There was no denying whose death warrant she had signed. Nor was there denying who she was coming for.
It was like the wind whispered her threat, a promise that perhaps only the gods could hear. If she believed in them.
At that she simply stepped off, a height that would kill most mortals, but landed it with a skilled crouch to absorb the impact. She didn't bother to summon for her men. Perhaps an error on her part not that she would ever admit to it. She summoned more of those specified felines to her, the strongest of them (rivalled only by Tetradore himself) that had been reserved for this moment swathed around her as if they could not reject their sole purpose to serve her. These were the best. The ones who endured the most strenuous of training.
Like a blanket of terror, she unleashed her torment power, sending the weak to their knees to be slaughtered quickly. Fear was the bane of all men. The stronger the hold, the more power she held over them. It was then that she pulled out her sword that was strapped to her, her attention focused ahead as her large were-cats ripped into the fallen vampires and dogs that remained in her way. She paved her own way with bodies, her own blade swung with expert precision to aid in cutting them down as she boldly made her way to face him like death herself.
Gore painted her leather bodysuit and exposed skin, her blue-black hair was heavy and wet with that blood like she swam within it.. The first one to break through her masses was at least four hundred years. They circled each other, Risque never more feral and predatory as she squared off to face maybe the first somewhat worth opponent. An instant later they became a blur of speed and micro attacks, as if learning one another. But Risque was older, her powers reached him too. He strained beneath it and yet all it did was slow him just a little as if his mind could pose a fighting chance to her crushing mental assault. Her blade cut the vampire shallowly at first as she moved forward and skirted away, toying and baiting his blows. Luring him closer and closer to the wall at her back. Better to have something solid at her back even though her cats were at her aid. Although some were already cut down by vampires that attempted to encircle her. Coral her off before leaving her nowhere to go. The vampire roared as she impaled him but hardly anywhere important. Still, every wound that was made had weakened him. Until she put him in a pit of his own despair that clawed at him like hands that grasped at his legs. As if he couldn't so much as move anymore with her powers acting like something to cement him in place. That was when she made her move, leaping into the air, blade poised its damning point on a slight angle so with all her strength could be put into that sweeping act. She cut him clean in half with one powerful stroke. Now she hadn't done that in quite some time.
The vampire queen hardly knew it before her feet touched the ground as the vampire fell in two distinctly separate pieces to the ground.
Chanting dispassionate voices murmured in the distance, unfamiliar and magic-infused.
She had just a moment to summon Tetradore, a sharp tug upon his figurative leash to summon him with complete authoritative power that was suddenly severed off. She noticed four cloaked faceless, shadowy figures positioned far enough away as vampires around her moved with the supreme speed of her species. Something was amiss. As soon as the recognition of her predicament clicked into place, it was too late. The world went quiet as if a vacuum sucked out the world's noise. Her felines still fought valiantly around her and yet they seemed unaware of her current predicament. She couldn't feel them. Complete silence encased her and the body of her latest victim. She was stuck inside an invisible cage that she could only assume had been caused by stones she had not seen before that were placed on four corners of that trap as the witches fueled that spell to contain her. Pale eyes shifting for a target for her venomous fury and yet it was like she was completely removed from the equation of battle.
Risque was trapped. A first in all her years as the undead, never before had she herself been in a cage! She didn't need to touch the wall to know it to be true, she could sense its powerful hum. A growl escaped her and the sound itself seemed to echo off those invisible walls that she had already struck with her blade with... complete inefficiency. Those 'walls' buzzed with power fueled by that incessant chanting. How she loathed those meddlesome witches. She would make sure to collect their bodies and feed them to her felines. But not until after she murdered Cade.
He would pay first.
It was Ian who caught sight of Risque in her current predicament, that sent him into action to alert Darcy... seeing as Tetradore was unlikely to heed that abrupt call that had been all but severed. One thing Risque was certain of, the moment she found her way out of this cage... there would be hell to pay.