"Where are the guards?" Sylvester snarled as he stormed through the halls of his fortress. His eyes swirled from blue to red then to a piercing gold as he takes a hawk's sight to examine the front gate as he rushed past a window. No guards in sight, but what seemed to be some wet splatters on the ground. Someone took out the guards and hid the bodies.

"Come and face us you cur!" cried a voice from his courtyard. He rolled his eyes and pivoted sharply to leap out a window. He plummeted for a moment before swirling into the shape of a hawk and swooping towards the ground. He threw his wings wide, catching the air and slowing rapidly before twisting back into his preferred sun elf form. "Why," he drew out the word as he dusted a stray feather from his shoulder, "have you killed my guards and invaded my home?"

"You are a villain! A murderer, a traitor, and a scoundrel! It is our duty to rid the world of your evil!" A man at the front of the group cried, leveling a spear at him. He wore heavy plate and a crest of some god he didn't recognize adorned the breastplate. A paladin then. A gnome near him he recognized as a rogue rolled his eyes. "We got accused of stealing Sweet Moonlight and the lady made us go after you to resolve the debt." The paladin flushed slightly and shot a glare at his companion. Sylvester took a quick count of them, the paladin, the rogue, some willowy thing in robes towards the back—a magic-user then, and a brutish looking fellow with a large axe. Four of them then, not too bad, he would make short work of them then give the families of his fallen guards their bereavement gold for their funerals and to help them adjust to the loss. 

"This is your only chance," he said with a hint of warmth to his voice, hands held to the side in a gesture of peace and allowance, "leave now and no harm will come to you. I'd rather not kill anyone if I don't have to."

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and with a word disappeared in a shower of embers, only to reappear behind the party. Lightning crashed down where he had just been. "A fight it is then." All kindness disappeared from his demeanor replaced with a burning wrath and an edge to his voice that made the party shudder. A sword found its home in the magic-user's back and to their belly and they let out a little gasp before crumpling.

"You fiend!" The paladin growled as he ran to his companion's side to heal them. The barbarian roared in fury and charged him, while the rogue attempted to hide and prepare for what he could only imagine would be a sneak-attack. He wasn't interested in causing suffering, he sought to make this quick.

The battle wore on, the party staying alive through grit, determination, and a surprising number of potions. Sylvester could see they were flagging though, he had to end them all with a swift final blow so their suffering would end. He moved fluidly putting his back to his fortress, he'd prefer to minimize the damage to his estate and its people.

Then a silhouette standing on a wall of his fortress caught his eye mid-fight, suddenly reminding him of his past. Of Bobidiah’s will. Of how in it he was named Ramson…He hadn’t used that name in a long time. How could he take Bobidiah’s name after what he had done? His employers, his affiliates, his contacts, all simply knew him as Sylvester Filiam. It was better this way, he didn’t deserve Bobidiah’s name. The fact that it made it harder for Miasys to find him was just a bonus. The world snapped back into focus as pain seared in his abdomen.

“Damn…” Sylvester coughed, blood spattering the ground. A spear stuck out of his stomach. His fortress burned around him. In front of him was the party of adventurers standing battered but defiant. They had fought hard. Sly liked to think he gave as good as he got. In the end though, he was the one who lay dying, not them. The world began to slide out of focus as he succumbed to his wounds. Looking up towards the sky, that silhouette on the wall caught his eye once again. Graceful, elegant, and deadly, hair flowing like silver in the sun and wind. It felt like cold water was dumped on him and he wheezed out a laugh. “You win…Mees…” he gasped as he reached out towards the distant figure, then it all went dark.