Dhampir

The man stands over the hulking, spiny monster – charred black in the sunlight and half buried beneath the fallen side of the building. “Damn fool, Feral” the man states to his companion, a young boy, “looks like whoever he tried to bite last nite bit back with a rocket launcher. Brought down the wall, and buried this sucker.” “Where’d their victim go?” The boy asks. “Hard to say,” the man shrugs, “tracks all confused with the rubble. Could be they high-tailed it. Could be they’re buried underneath.” “There’s a town, about a mile down the road,” a hooded newcomer offers, standing in the shadows of the ruined structure. “Come out where I can see you,” the man warns. “Okay, okay,” the hooded man nods, walking slowly – hands raised – towards the man and the boy. As the new comer steps out into the sunlight, the man pulls a pistol and charges forward. Stepping behind the newcomer, the man yanks down the hood. The new comer stands in the sun, squinting. “He’s pale,” the boy comments. “Anaemic,” the man confesses. “He didn’t burn,” the man offers, “that might be good enough. Though I heard tell of Vampires that can withstand the sun.” The newcomer simply grins, shakes his head and pulls a long blade from the back of his jacket.

 

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Dhampir

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