With the Hylden revenants dead at his feet, Kain had more immediate concerns.
There was the sound of running footsteps and he faded instinctively into mist form, backing off and then seeping through the door. More hunters were coming and Kain left them to find the warped, demonic corpses and make from them what they would.
“What...what horrendous things are these?!” He heard someone declare in utter revolution.
“Demons!” Someone else stammered. “Do you see now? The forces of darkness grow ever stronger! We must join with the new Sarafan Lord!”  
The conversation dimmed away as Kain carried on, the way to the south west tower open before him.
Alarm bells were rung from the tallest towers and the guards were called out in force, many men with swords, axes, crossbows and mortars running through the old stone corridors. It did not take them long to have men filling the stone walkways and halls.
Kain found their patrols annoying but not overly hindering.

“These men had made careers out of the deaths of my species. One could only wonder what role they might find for themselves if ever they succeeded in their gruesome task.”

A suspended vestibule, with large glass windows on either side to show the view, stretched the distance between the fortress and the tower itself. Kain advanced across this cautiously before slowly opening the large door blocking the way.
The tower itself was hollow with curving stairs leading up, the outside wall broken by the occasional redoubt and arrow holes, sending beams of light into the dank and the gloom.
Occasionally the tower opened up into lower chambers and Kain was forced to explore each one, systematically going through the tower floor by floor. The lowest levels contained little more than spare arms and supplies but higher up there were large stone chapels one atop the other with flights of stairs leading between them.
It would seem the humans felt it safest to contain the head of Vorador at the stronghold’s religious chambers.  For all the good that hopeless gesture of piety would do them.

“If there was one power in Nosgoth that dominated all, humans and vampires alike it was the looming spectre of religion. I had never before realised just how much of my present dilemma I had owed to the erroneous faith my vampire ancestors had held in the wheel of fate and perhaps by implication to religious faith as a whole.”

Ascending these chapels, he advanced cautiously, realising this tower to be the perfect place for an ambush.
When he reached the top, he found a large door baring the way to the pinnacle. He did not immediately break it down to gain entry but stopped just long enough to smell for the scent of humans lying in wait.
Sure enough the scent of at least a half a dozen hunters lay within.
It was impossible to tell exactly how many, as the smell of vampire dead was still just as strong as ever.

“The stench of death on these humans who thought to ambush me was appalling. Any vampire with even the most basic sense of smell would be able to detect them a mile away. What amazed me even more was the stunning fact that these murderers did not know how bad they smelt.”

Kain had much to think on already and was not in the mood to entertain the prospect of a long, drawn out fight.
The door yielded to him with a single kick and he marched straight to find the hunters, lined up in ordered rows to confront him. To his distaste these hunters wore not the banner of Moebius’ hourglass but had already taken to wearing the banner of the Hylden’s fake Sarafan.
“There!” Another recruiter declared from the relative safety of the back of the group, gesturing wildly. “Do you see? Have our words not been proven? The vampires are not gone! One even dares to attack this very fortress!”
“For William the Just!” Another of them declared, pointing a sword at Kain challengingly. “We’ll keep trying until we get all of your kind!”
Kain ignored them and glanced past their mob to a stone pedestal on the far side. His already grim face darkened considerably at the sight of Vorador’s head. It rested, clasped between the stone hands of a statue… of Moebius.
The Time Streamer’s visage was holding it high above its head with an absurdly uncharacteristic reverent expression on its face.

“My relationship with Vorador had never been cordial. When he had been alive, we maintained a distant respect even after our disagreement in the Hylden city. Even so, the sight of his severed head, displayed like some trophy to a big game hunter filled me with revolution and contempt. These hunters might make the excuse of defending themselves against the predators of the night, but not while they used our remains to create such absurd travesties.”

Disgusted, he drew the Reaver blade.
“Then by all means, try.” He said, holding the blade at eye level as his body adapted the practised and perfect fighting stance.
The first row of hunters descended down onto one knee, dropping as behind them men with crossbows and mortars rose up with their weapons already primed. Kain’s reactions however were much faster. A telekinetic bolt striking one of the mortars held by the humans caused it to explode.
The force knocked several of them to the floor while the man unfortunate enough to have been holding the mortar at the time had both arms blown off. With a battle cry of blood lust and rage, Kain leapt into their distracted numbers.
The Reaver’s cry as he brought it back and forth in their midst was one of satisfied jubilation with so many souls to feed upon at once. They were so close around him in such mass that he was chopping at them more than fighting.
Hacked limbs and heads flew in all directions and Raziel’s soul from the sword sung its benediction of Kain’s prowess in battle.
A lucky hit, a slash down his middle and he bared his fangs against the pain. Blood ran from the wound, leaking its previous life out of his body. The human who dealt the blow tried to raise his weapon to strike again but Kain kicked him in the stomach and knocked him back.
As the human staggered away, Kain swung around and drove the Reaver’s tip up through his chest and directly into his heart.
Heaving his whole body around, he swung the Reaver and the body was thrown off to crash into another hunter trying the same tactic from behind.
“Burn demon BURN!!” The vampire about faced just in time to avoid the searing heat that flew at him. He dropped into mist form and drew back, the fire shooting past and setting several other hunters ablaze. They all screamed in pain and terror, dropping their weapons and beating at their own bodies in a futile attempt to put the fire out.

“The human who confronted me was in the possession of a most peculiar device. With the fall of the Pillars, mankind turned from the fickle promises of magic and mysticism and embraced the emerging strength of science.
This contraption was an early, crude attempt at what the vampire hunters from my own time called a flamethrower. Flammable gasses were sent through the hose the operator held and set alight to reduce to ashes any hapless creature to come within range. These flames would not find me.”

The flamethrower burst forth with fire once more and Kain faded into mist. Again, drifting back and away from the hunter who, grinning near insanely, advanced after him. The barrel like device he carried was heavy and with both hands holding the lit hose in front, he could only plod forward.
Becoming solid once more, Kain paused to carve another hunter down the middle before facing the flames again. Suddenly, the Reaver’s scream changed. Its cry of feral hunger changed to one of alarm.
Glancing back over his shoulder, Kain saw with alarm that he was standing before the statue of Moebius that held Vorador’s head. The human was directly in front of him now, nozzle of his deadly machine raised and lit.
Kain had to save the head. No harm must befall it or his mission here would fail. As the fire began to erupt forward, Kain reached out with his telekinesis and grabbed the Sarafan recruiter who had stood off to one side watching the battle. With a sharp yank, the vampire pulled him through the air tumbling head over heals until he hung suspended there as a shield.
“What are you…” The human started in alarm but the words died in his throat as he saw the oncoming fire. “No, no, no... NOOO!!!” The fire washed over him and he screamed. Kain held him firmly in place, the human’s body keeping the blaze away from the head and the vampire both.
Eventually the flames began to ebb, Kain blasted the charred body in front of him with a bolt of force and it slammed into the human with the deadly weapon knocking him off balance.
Racing forward, Kain grabbed the nozzle of the hose before it could be used again. Quickly he took hold of the human, twisting his arm to hold it behind him. Thus pinned, the human was helpless as Kain methodically turned the flamethrower against his fellows.
The fire the hunters had harnessed lashed back at them, setting five of them on fire instantly. The others desperately scrambled to get out of the way, some of them climbing over the top of others in their desperation.
Still directing the fire, Kain leaned forward and sank his fangs directly into his hostage’s neck. The blood that burst forth was a tonic, restoring his strength and replenishing his life. The wound in his side healed instantly and energies spent were returned.
He drained the human, drinking the sweet coppery blood down and when he was finished he kicked the corpse forward. One sharp blow with a long range telekinetic bolt and the metal canister on the dead man’s back exploded. The force of that explosion literally blew the remaining hunters apart. Limbs, fingers, eyeballs and bits of charred skin rained down, blood splattering on the cracked and blackened stones of the floor.
The windows of the tower had all shattered at the shockwave and brick dust fell in clumps from the ceiling supports. With the hunters dead all around him, Kain sheathed the Reaver and for a moment regarded their remains.
He took note of the fact that more of them had been armed with mortars than crossbows, swords and axes giving way as well in favour of long range weaponry. The sword and the shield were no longer the only means by which warriors did battle.

“I better than anyone, knew that the world was in a constant state of flux. One era ended and another began… but this was different. It was almost as if with the Pillar’s collapse; magic no longer held sway in a world always dominated by sorcerers and wizards. Now, science, technology and mathematics led the way. If only such potent weapons could be turned against my ultimate enemy.”

Then he turned to look back over his shoulder at the head he had come to retrieve. It had survived the battle intact. The statue that held it however had not been so fortunate.
Kain stared at it and then smiled at the apt sight of Moebius’ stone head, lying on the floor beside the bust.
He strode over, kicking the granite face out of the way and regarded the statue. He did not want to risk damaging the head by simply wrenching it out of the grasp of those stone fingers. So instead he chpped away at the hands with one talon, scrapping away the mortar until they fell away.
The dismembered remains fell forward out of the loosened grip and Kain caught it swiftly before it could strike the floor. For its size it was surpassingly light. Quickly he checked it over again for any damage.

“Despite its decapitation, the head was in quite good condition and showed little sign of decomposition. The look on his face however was perhaps a little off-putting. 
Vorador had died with such a look of anguish and hopelessness on his face that it remained there transfixed even in death.”

Vorador had not had an easy life, Kain knew. Any vampires he might call family, including Janos Audron, had been murdered by the Sarafan and his vengeance on the Circle of Nine had not delivered to him any satisfaction.
Moebius’ own crusade had forced him to watch the rest of his species killed, the tragedy culminating in his own execution where he must have believed himself the last breathing vampire.
Still Vorador was not without his own faults. His hatred for humans and what they had done to his kind was so acute that he had once delighted in the sadistic suffering and pain of captured peasants and hunters.
Although in recent years his passion for such entertainments had waned, his contempt for the human race had made him more than a few enemies.

“Did Vorador deserve such an end? Umah did not think so.”

Kain softly closed Vorador’s staring eyes and shut his gaping mouth to give him a more respectful façade.

“Whether or not his hopeless death was earned was immaterial, I resolved. If Vorador could provide me direction then Vorador would live again.”