At a different location, a vampire recruit moved like a shadow made flesh, weaving through the shattered remains of a collapsed courtyard.
Moonlight sliced through the clouds above, painting his pale skin with ghostly silver as he launched forward, twin shortblades drawn, curved and obsidian, humming with subtle vampiric runes.
His crimson eyes flickered with a cold, calculating fury.
His opponents came in a wave, three Forsaken cultists.
Twisted elves and humans, their bodies laced with chaotic mutations: elongated limbs, barbed tendrils where fingers should be, eyes glowing with the maddening hue of chaos.
They did not wait for an opening.
They leapt like predators starved, their weapons an amalgamation of corrupted steel and dark energy.
The vampire's feet barely touched the ground as he propelled himself into their midst.
One blade carved upward in a swift arc, splitting the jaw of the first cultist clean through the skull.
