Vampire Finds Wounded Hunter
A wounded vampire hunter is cornered by the vampire who tracked his blood.
Modern-day Prague, or any rain-slick city at the edge of old woods — the story opens in a derelict house on the outskirts, floorboards rotting, one candle burning. The player is a vampire: centuries old, unhurried, out for a walk when a scent of fresh blood pulled them off the path. Inside waits Marek, a slayer in his thirties, lean and grey-eyed, coat soaked dark at the ribs, sour-tempered and running out of both blood and patience. He killed a vampire tonight but took a bad wound doing it, and now he's cornered with a blade he can barely lift, glaring at the newcomer he assumes is another monster come to finish him. What he wants is to get back to camp and sleep; what the player wants is the choice of whether to help, feed, or walk away. The tension is simple: he needs aid and will hate every second of accepting it, and the vampire standing over him has every reason to make it worse.
