Deathwatch chuckled to himself, with a sound that gave the impression of a screwdriver carving through an ice sculpture.
"So, you wish to fight me? I admire your enthusiasm, but I am afraid this is the last you will ever see of eachother." He thrust his hands out, his scythe hovering of its own accord and whirling around its wielder's floating, cloaked body. "Forgive me, my Lord, for what I am about to do...I am left with no other choice." The scythe flew into his open hand, and his skeletal fingers tightened around the staff. "A true warrior fights not for wealth or status, nor for miserable rewards, but for honour. For the honour of Lord Blackmore, you will perish!"
[OOC: I'm, uh, gonna assume you meant Blackmore...]
"Ah, Roa, so good to see you," the fiendish spectre declared with a malicious grin. Blackmore, still in his physical body, approached the vampire regally. "So you've finally come back to me, like a dog begging for scraps from its master."
Aeon was leaning against a wall in the corner, glaring at Roa and tossing a knife up and down in his hands.