Ellon Achyls smirk and vanished from the little cabin as he chanted a dark spell to Dimitri's thought.
With a tremendous headache and pain, Dimitri searched for those memories… he dug deeper and deeper and found one, from a long time ago…17th century. From where it all began and so he was told.
The village of Winterberg had suffered several attacks over the past few weeks, but a big one had occurred a few days ago. A massive vampire attack had killed many before them, forcing them to flee to neighbouring villages. A few days before, they had tried to pitch a tent and erect temporary keeps, but vampires and uncivilised hordes had razed them not long after. The countryside was in an uproar; people were running in the fields to escape the dark enemy, squealing and shouting with relief. However, Knight Ambrose was one of the few who wanted to fight the creatures. Willing to fight the vampires to gain more votes from the lords and dwellers of the nearby townle.