He brushed back unruly black hair and winced as a ray of sunlight piercing the thick canopy on high briefly shone into his eyes. He cut a strange visage, one hand occupied with a beautiful but strange black-wood bow, some kind of dark leather of an almost armour-like quality covering his entire body save for the hood he had left down to his misfortune, and a small quiver of arrows at his hip. He could have been mistaken for a huntsman, with his well-built six foot frame and the ease in which he traversed the treacherous terrain of the forest. Save for the fact that he was armed with both a strange stone-dagger and an equally exotic short-sword, weapons of war rather than tools of the hunt. Despite the fact that the lone man was certainly not a huntsman in a conventional sense, such an assumption was not far off the mark. 

For he was hunting at that moment, save for that his prey was human.

Of course, the lone figure was a Vampire, out of his haunt in the day despite his severe vulnerability to the sun. Adrian Valdovsk, almost three hundred years old, had decided to break one of the cardinal rules of his race. He had forsaken the safety of his lair as a sudden thirst overcame him like never before, that thirst of course being the overwhelming desire for blood.

He knew in his heart as he set out that happening upon some young woman trawling through the forest was highly unlikely, hell, he was unlikely to find anyone at all. Still, the desire was pulling him, tugging him ever closer to a confrontation which he couldn’t have expected.

As he walked he appreciated the sights and smells of the forest around him with a clarity only those who had embraced the night and gained the predatory senses of the Vampire could achieve. He opened himself to everything going on around him, and felt almost giddy at the sensation, he raised his arms wide and the bow dangled from his finger-tips. The world washed over him in waves, driving him to the next level of awareness, he even smiled cautiously. Suddenly, he stepped into a patch of light and recoiled as if stung, the scowl returning to his handsome features. It was just like the sun to remind him of his situation.

Bastard.

He spent another hour or so in the woods, before finally deciding to return to his cave and sleep through the rest of the day. He promised himself a great feast when night fell, placating the beast within him with some difficulty, and set off roughly back the way he came. Despite all his bush-craft however he must have wandered off his well-worn path at some point, because he neared the edge of a clearing. For obvious reasons, he was reluctant to advance, but he could smell something which was almost causing him to salivate. Blood, fresh blood, pumping through veins, forced through the heart, thump thump, thump thump, he delighted in it, the heartbeat carried him away to places he had long since forgotten. His fangs emerged almost of their own volition and he grimaced.

[i]What a monster I’ve become [/i]

He strolled to the edge of the clearing, remaining cloaked in shadow, lifting his hood to cover his features. He cared not if he was detected, for he wished to toy with his prey, who he quickly noted had discarded his primary means of defence, all the better. He spoke in a soft tone, none the less still audible in the quiet of the forest.

“What brings the swordsman
to this quiet place of peace?
Does he mourn his dead?”