OoC: Still trying to recover from illness, don't expect anything spectacular.

BiC:

It all went by so quickly. Not even ten seconds into the contest, and already the man must’ve racked up about two dozen kills. This was unacceptable. The Hellfire Sword and its wielder dashed forward at unprecedented speed, cutting the guards down as though they were wooden cutouts. As they plowed through, Vaskalen took the opportunity to absorb every soul it, and the vampire, killed. It felt to it as a human would feel to a nice bout in a hot spring; warm and refreshing.

Mioska, however, had to bury her conscience into the shadows in order to go through with this, not even flinching at the occasional plea to spare their life. However, as the guards soon fell to the two demi-gods, both the wielder and the sword needed new targets.

“Villagers next,” Vaskalen said, using Mioska as a mouthpiece. “Women and children worth two times the points. Seniors four times.”

From somewhere behind them, the Sword could hear the man laughing, finding his sense of humor admirable. “Alright.” Vaskalen heard him reply.

With that, the two rushed out into nearby buildings, looking for more people to slaughter. The sword had to admit the vampire had an advantage: he could smell if there were people in a building before going in. However, this would get harder for him, since the sword set fire to every building it entered, regardless of occupancy or lack thereof.

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(Avy by insaney, sig by an assortment of various ZUers present and past. You know who you are. =3)
Figments of my Imagination.