Curiosity Leads to Adventure

Gadorian sat idly in his room, waiting for the day to pass. It seemed he was discovered by everyone in the bar except the Sarafan. Still, these people knew to leave well enough alone, and, at least for know, Gadorian decided he would do them the same favor. Gadorian's keen abilities had picked up on the entire telepathic conversation that had gone on between the two visitors - Kour and Lent, were they? - but at first he was not interested in what had been said. A few more hours of contemplation in his room, however, and he could not contain his curiosity. When night came, he would go to Termogent Forest and follow Lent. Most other vampires were far more patient and cautious, but most other vampires had at least something to lose. If nothing else, the journey should prove to be interesting. He would return to his Sarafan friend once he had concluded this trip, if he returned...
The vampire-worshipper would no doubt attract some sort of unwanted attention, for while their kind certainly was much more formidable than the typical human, they simply lacked the affinity for stealth that may only come to those not entirely alive.

Lent hiked through the forest, and was making great time. "Perhaps a rest is in order," he thought as he leaned against a wall. Lent then turned to inspect the wall and realized it was the outer rim of Vorador's Mansion, long abandoned since Moebius' cutthroats desecrated it. He tied a line to an axe and tossed it over the wall. The axe caught and Lent climbed over. He had always wanted to see the home of his ancestor, and though he knew there would be nothing useful inside, he went anyways. The towering columns outside had long since fallen, and the stone court yard was now covered with weeds and mud. Lent noted that the door was blasted shut. All that remained was his family's ancient crest, but he would probably be the only one who would recognize it.
Lent's bloodline had been wiped out through persecution of the Sarafan and Moebius' mercenaries. He was the last member, which gave him plenty of orders to follow and responsibilities to carry out. One of his responsibilities, he felt, was to father a child. Should something happen to him, his master would be left without any servants. Still, Lent hated the idea of bringing a child into this world while the Sarafan ruled it.
A twig snapped beyond the wall, and Lent realized someone was on the other side. "Could they have followed me?" Lent decided not to think about it. This person might read his thoughts as well. He grabbed his things and hurried to the other side of the mansion, and noticed the gate had been broken open. He left through this gate, and continued on his way to Nachtholm, careful to leave as little of a trail as possible.

Night fell, and Gadorian flew in bat form to the Black Forest of Termogent. Just as he had suspected - the vampire-worshipper's departure had alerted a squad of Sarafan to his trail. They had followed Lent without much incident, but upon seeing him enter the abandoned mansion of Vorador, they knew they had to apprehend this cloaked man. The Sarafan seemed like they were novices not long ago, although they did manage to evade detection by Lent, until now. No matter how skilled the vampire-worshipper may be, no single man could possibly stand a chance against an entire squad of trained Sarafan.
The knights prepared for an ambush, but had no idea it was they who were about to be surprised. As the Sarafan leaped out to overcome their target, Gadorian lunged down, killing one of them. Lent whirled about. He swung one of his axes and in a single strike severed the head clean off of another knight. Gadorian grabbed another by the throat and drained him of all his blood before he could make any sort of protest. As he was finishing his meal, another Sarafan lodged his sword in Gadorian's shoulder - a fatal mistake. The vampire thrust his open hand into the knight's stomach and up under his sternum, and pulled out his still beating heart. Throughout this display Lent had dispatched the final warrior with a throwing dagger to the eye. The two stood silent for a moment - Lent panting, and Gadorian holding back a small chuckle.
"Why," Lent puffed while catching his breath, "did you follow me?" Lent forced the words out while still keeping a firm grip on his weapons. Gadorian replied with a bloodstained grin, "Oh come now, I had nothing better to do and was looking for some entertainment. Besides, it's a good thing I did follow you. You looked like you needed the help." Gadorian stood - still smiling demonically - and awaited Lent's reply.

Lent bowed respectfully, not taking his eyes off of the vampire and keeping his axes handy. "I thank you, Dark Lord, for your assistance." Lent recognized him from the pub earlier that day. "Forgive my rudeness, but I'm late. I must hurry, or my master will be very displeased with me. Perhaps we'll meet again." Lent left before the vampire had a chance to respond. He didn't expect the Sarafan to be following him, nor did he expect that vampire to aid him. "He must be bored," Lent thought, and wondered how many more were following him. Running through the forest as fast as he could Lent recalled he only heard one set of steps outside Vorador's abandoned mansion. Someone else was on his tail, but he couldn't tell who. "Not the Sarafan, and surely not the vampire from before." He had no choice but to try and out run the one who dogged his shadow.
Lent ran through the clearing of the forest, and reached Nachtholm an hour later. His muscles ached from his mad dash. "I surely hope this artifact is worth all this effort," and he wondered, "What is it that I'm suppose to acquire that is attracting so much attention?" Whatever it was, Lent hoped to find the answer soon. He stopped at a creek, filled up his water canteen, and then cooled the back of his neck. Looking up he could see a shadowy figure under the bridge. "Well, I guess that's my contact." Approaching the bridge, Lent didn't speak, he didn't think either. He waited to see if this shadowy figure knew who he was. He stood before him and the figure spoke...

Gadorian was offended - and intrigued - by the hasty departure of Lent. There was now no way he could possibly resist pursuit, even if only to settle the score. The vampire-worshipper had blown him off after he had taken out three of his would-be assailants. Surely, the show would be exquisite once Lent reached his destination.
Gadorian reached Nachtolm and focused his energy. He became first mist, and then with a further force of will melded himself to the very shadows themselves. He would be entirely undetectable, even by the eldest of creatures. He watched Lent and waited for the drama to unfold...

"Tell me Gadorian, have you taken to skulking about like some young fledgling? Leave the boy be." Gadorian turned his head to greet the shadow above him. With a laugh, Novanus leapt from the roof top he had been resting on and floated gently to the ground where he bowed with a flourish of his arm. "He is doing something which is somewhat important so kindly get your nose out of it." Novanus paused, then continued, "Oh by the way, have you missed me?" Gadorian let out a low growl. He had met this Novanus before. Appearing like a bluish human with cloven feet and three fingered hands, Novanus possessed very powerful mental abilities, such as telekinesis. Their weapons had never crossed, but he frequently interfered with Gadorian's fun. "Tch. Figures you would have something to do with this. The human piqued my interest and offered me insufficient respect for a favor. Surely you would know that I would never interfere in this affair. I merely wished to observe. You always were too high-strung."
The two vampires stood glaring at each other with intense malice. Their fury seemed to heat the cool, twilight air. "I'm not leaving, and I highly doubt it would be worth your time to try and make me. Play your little game, and I shall play mine. But surely, you can't expect to deny me my right as an audience member?" While the victor of any fight between the two would be difficult to predict, the loser would surely leave the other with some painful scars. The entire matter would remain much less complicated if bloodshed were to be left out of the picture.