224. The bloodfiend at Hinault farm

Nothing I have witnessed quite prepared me for the shock of seeing the shape of a man feasting upon the corpse of another. The bloodfiend was so intent upon its meal that it did not notice my initial approach and for a long while I stood unable to avert my eyes from the vile scene, entranced by my own revulsion. Eventually however the monster paused from its fervent glut, slowly lifted its blanched head and sniffed the air.  An unnatural coldness began to course through my veins, and as the creature turned its ghastly gaze toward me, my heart froze as if bitten by an Ice Wraith.  Blackness threatened to overcome me, but the spell was broken by the monsters own bloodthirsty scream as it charged towards me, and I raised my sword and shield to give battle.

These aren’t the cold, premeditating vampires’ spoke of almost romantically in bard song and campfire tale, these are savage animals whose uncontrollable lust for fresh blood and sinew has driven them beyond insanity.  Much like the feral soul shriven of Coldharbor, they are blameless in their barbarity, yet cannot be allowed liberty, or existence, lest their affliction becomes epidemic.

S.K

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