“Zaroth almost killed us in the first fight,

We could never win in a contest of might.

Our chances were slim, but we had to try,

Anything less than a win meant we’d die.”

Garassk smashed the door open, and brandished his dagger. Arra moved behind him.

“Come on out Zaroth!” he shouted. “We all know how this is going to end!”

“Do we?” a snide voice echoed from all directions. When no attack came, Garassk slithered toward the main hall, and Arra split off from him. The entire castle seemed to be built so that an attack could come from any direction as he walked, but nothing came. The main hall was emptier when Garassk reached it.

He didn’t even get the chance to step into the room before Zaroth attacked. A heavy force slammed against his body against the wall. As he struggled to get up, Zaroth stepped forward and kicked him in the face. This forced Garassk close enough to a standing position for the vampire to punch him a few times, each blow feeling like a brick had been tossed right at him. Zaroth finally landed a punch that sent him to the ground, and kicked him square in the jaw. Garassk heard something clatter against the floor. He assumed it was his teeth.

As he rolled over and groaned, Zaroth lifted him up by the throat, and shoved him against a wall, pinning him in place. Garassk’s attempts to free his arms and attack were blocked by Zaroth leaning against his body, crushing him in place. He hissed and snarled, but couldn’t escape.

“You’ve hunted well,” Zaroth whispered, raising the visor of his helm, tightening his grip on Garassk’s neck. “But you’re like the others. Another trophy for me to claim. Another body for the pits.”

He opened his mouth, finally revealing the fangs he’d hidden for so long.

A dull thud sounded against Zaroth’s shoulder as a bolt bumped against him. He turned around in time for another one to hit him in the face.

“Forget about someone, you bastard?” Rathorn snarled. Zaroth moved enough for Garassk to use his dagger arm. He slashed at Zaroth’s cheek, causing the vampire to release his grip and snarl in frustration. Garassk noticed a slight burn on Zaroth’s face where the cut landed.

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“So you have some silver,” the vampire purred. “I don’t know where you got that, but it won’t save you now.”

Rathorn shot another bolt just as Zaroth was about to attack Garassk again, causing him to change course.

“You should have stayed in your room!” he shouted, charging towards Rathorn. The elder varanian swung his club, causing Zaroth to soar for a wall, but the lord persisted. Rathorn finally swung downwards, forcing Zaroth down at his own feet.

“Stay down!” Rathorn roared, continuing to pound the vampire into the ground. Is this it? Garassk thought. Is this how we beat Zaroth?

Zaroth finally caught Rathorn’s last swing in his hands, and gave the varanian an uppercut. Rathorn lost his grip on his club, and flew down from the upper levels, landing on the dining table. Garassk rushed to his side, but Zaroth landed on the table in front of him. The murderous look in his eyes was bone-chilling.

“I will not be defeated tonight!” he snarled, stepping forward. An arrow struck at his neck, causing him to scream in pain again. Garassk turned around to see Arra aiming another arrow at him, and turned back to see Rathorn grab Zaroth from behind. The vampire struggled in the large lizard’s grasp as Rathorn managed to tear his armor off of him like paper. Zaroth backhanded Rathorn, only to get three more arrows in his back for his trouble. Arra shot off a few more arrows, but they all missed.

When it was clear that she’d run out, Garassk ran forward and thrust his sword at Zaroth. The vampire dodged every thrust Garassk made, until he eventually smacked the sword out of his hands. Garassk went for his dagger, but Zaroth slammed him to the ground. Rathorn crawled forward, but Zaroth punched him to the ground without even breaking eye contact with Garassk, and when Rathorn hit the ground, he lay still for a few moments. He could only groan in pain.

Arra moved forward and slammed the pot down over Zaroth’s head. The vampire reared up and screamed in pain, silver seeping down his body as the burns spread all over his face and chest as he thrashed around in front of them. He eventually managed to pry the pot off of his head, and tossed it to the ground. Arra rushed for it, and him for her, but Garassk tackled Zaroth to the ground, determined to buy Arra time if necessary. He slammed his sword down on Zaroth’s face repeatedly, until the dead lord grabbed a hold of him and threw him aside.

“Just… die!” the vampire hissed. Zaroth was panting now. Rage flashed in his eyes, but so did weakness. Silver was coursing through his body, slowly killing him. But he was still stronger than them, and currently had the advantage. Garassk clutched his sword closely, pausing for a moment to observe the pommel.

Gods above, I’m actually doing this, he thought, unscrewing it. As Zaroth approached, Garassk tossed it right at him. It embedded itself in Zaroth’s gut, causing him to scream in pain.

That was when Arra made her move. She’d picked up Rathorn’s club, had apparently taken the time to sharpen the tip of it first, and jumped down to thrust it through Zaroth’s back, piercing his heart. Lord Zaroth reared up and let out an animalistic scream of pain as his skin started to wither away like wax or paper burning near a candle. Eventually Lord Zaroth’s body had disintegrated completely, leaving Garassk, Rathorn, and Arra alone in an empty castle.