Anderson vs Heinrich

OOC: Setting's simple, Irish countryside, some trees are about but it's mostly clear. It's a full moon and otherwise it's totally quiet and deserted.

Stalking the Priest the Nazi was quiet, it was completely deserted and he was prepared for a tough fight. Nonetheless, he was going to enjoy this no matter what happened. Drawing his blade silently from his sheath in a quick motion, Hawkeye had a smile on his face. It would be fun to see the sword going through his heart, running forwards silently Heinrich span his blade letting it take momentum. Spinning around it was like a blender, pure speed and momentum that he'd spent years developing. he was almost just behind the priest now...he struck out

He sent his blade around going for the neck and hip with a spinning slash going around and around.
"SIEG HEIL YOU SHITBAG!"

OOC: Based on the setting and your battle cry, Anderson has more than enough cause to know you're coming at him and prepare a response free from the element of surprise. Additionally "He sent his blade around going for the neck and hip with a spinning slash going around and around" in order to achieve multiple rotations such as this while still advancing your feet would need to be off the ground, removing most evasive options for your character.

It was quite odd just how long it took these fascists to learn their lessons. Again and again they sent their agents against him in the field and every time they were reduced to bloodied corpses. This particular one seemed to lack the minor common sense his predecessors had. Attacking the Paladin Monster Slayer in an open field, engaging in close combat, and even screaming to announce his presence to rob himself of the element of surprise. Amateur. The Iscariot thought to himself, rounding on the Nazi with blade drawn in an arc opposite his attacker's own. The bayonet he now held in his left hand would crash against the incoming blade intended for his neck, however, rather than lead with the razor sharp edge, Anderson struck with the flattened back edge. With the vampire already in a full spin, his momentum was far too great to simply stop at this point, most likely carrying him through to a weapon collision that would snap his blade in half against the blunt force of Alexander's bayonet. That being said, these monsters were nothing if not committed to their brutality. The chance that a damaged weapon would end this one's offensive was small and so the Iscariot would respond in kind. The freak's spinning might have seemed mildly impressive to some, but in order to achieve that powerful momentum, a spin was still necessary, a spin that might as well have been in slow motion of a man of Anderson's experience and skills. The vampire had chosen to present his back to a superior opponent, it was a mistake he would soon forget as a second bayonet in Alexander's right hand thrust forward to impale his heart from behind. Blade most likely broken, sword arm most likely numb from the shock, eyes averted from the Paladin's own strike. It all added up to an overzealous midian eager for divine punishment.

Feeling his blade give way Heinrich felt pissed, that had been a present from his father and would now have to be reforged, letting go his left hand reached out as he twisted in the air, allowing him to grab hold of the regenerator's wrist while getting inside his swing. Heinrich was annoyed by the whole thing and if he let go of his opponents wrist then chances were that the blade would kill him. Heinrichs right arm did the same with the priests left wrist. THough numb he wasn't going to let that decide the fight.

Pressing forward with the momentum he still had the nazi was going for the jugular of the man. The Iscariot trump card would not survive this if the Nazi had his way.

Feisty one eh? the Regenerator thought to himself, giving the Nazi monster some measure of credit for its tenacity. Dropping his chin, Anderson snapped his head forward. That heavy brow of bullet proof bone and toughened skin would smash directly into the oncoming nose with enough power to crush the cartilage of its nose into powder and most likely knock a few teeth loose as well. It was a maneuver that would cost the Iscariot his reading glasses but that was a small price to pay in order to stop the monster from claiming his throat. Though the fascist had latched on to each of the Iscariot's wrists, Anderson was far from immobilized. Pointing both of the blades inward towards the vampire's ribs, Alexander would thrust in at the heart with both as soon as his forehead made contact with the vampire's face. His prey had pulled itself towards the priest, evidently placing its concern on controlling the forward and backward motion of Alexander's arms. At this range, especially with the distraction and disorientation of the heavy headbutt, the sudden shift in motion laterally should have been all but unstoppable. Even then, if technique and misdirection failed, there was always brute strength to fall back on. He'd overpowered countless monstrosities throughout his career, the various injections and inoculations over the years having pushed his strength well past anything the lower mongrel filth of the nosferatu strain could manage. Hellsing's pet monstrosity may have been able to muster enough strength to stalemate the Killing Judge but the idea of this imitation vampire replicating such a feat was ludicrous.

Twisting his head to the side of the priests Heinrich kicked out at the priests private ares, any advantage would be needed. Throwing himself away and going into a backwards roll then the Nazi made sure that he was a decent distance from the priest. There wasn't anything he could except to try and wait it out and strike whenever he had the advantage. He was on almost equal terms with the priests except, except those bayonets he had.

As long as the bayonet priest had his silver weapons then Heinrich had no chance, but he had to play it smart.

"So Priest, vhy are you here?" stalling for time was the best thing he could. At the most then Heinrich could hurt the priest whereas the priest could kill Heinrich. He didn't have much to go with, but he would still die before giving in.

OOC: "Pressing forward with the momentum he still had the nazi was going for the jugular of the man." Based on this line in your last post and my headbutt in response, there is no longer any room available for a dodge to the side as you described. At best, you're looking at a hard pop to the teeth or chin rather than one into the nose. Furthermore, the bayonet thrusts I described were performed almost simultaneously with the headbutt which means that even if the headbutt had been dodged, the stabs would have landed in time with or even a moment before the groin kick you described. The evasive backwards roll is described as happening after the groin kick and thus after a fatal wound had been inflicted. I'll proceed on the understanding that you were able to successfully evade a direct headbutt but based on the evidence I presented I'm calling a kill. Feel free to ask another Staff member to read over the fight and check my work.

His forehead glancing off the vampires passing chin, Father Anderson drove inward with his trademark bayonets. Gloved hands tightly grasping the worn leather handles, he felt that telltale and oh so satisfying impact of blade meeting flesh and bone. As the silver blades slid their way between the vampires ribs to impale its heart and lungs, the Iscariot bit down hard as a sudden shock of pain raced through his loins. The bastard had struck out at his groin in the melee, an unexpected shock that caused even the Catholic juggernaut to wince as he fought to forge pain into rage. Features twisted into an enraged snarl, Alexander tore in with his blades from where they had been plunged into the vampire's chest. Slicing through bone like it was butter, the Sword Dancer ripped open the vampire's chest cavity before continuing on with a return stroke to cut the monster into four mangled, bloody pieces. Arms held outstretched as if in penance, the Iscariot towered over the ruined, crumbling remains of his short lived adversary. Crimson lifeblood dripped from the silvered blades he clasped in each hand, droplets flying through the still night air as he spun them into his favored sign of the cross. "Ashes tae ashes. Dust tae dust. Froom tha dust ye came an tae tha dust ye shall return. Amen, ye goddamn munstar!"