On a night half a month later, it was raining again. The downpour was severe, so heavy that you couldn’t see even a few steps in front of you if you didn’t peer ahead intensely.
The bloodsucking serial murders that had been going on in the town lately kept the town’s population in terror even now. Gilbert Chartes, Roy Rouland and several more Templars had been killed, and the chaser village had been massacred wholly.
The rumors about a curse hanging over the town and a bloodsucking monster on the prowl were the talk of the town. No one dared walk after dark, and the town was completely still and silent at night.
But on that night, behind the veil of the rain, peals of laughter could be heard. The jovial voices of men coming out of a tavern. They were intrepid high ranking Templar Knights who feared not the vampire prowling the night.