laneys.info Beware of Yankees, drunks, and loose women.

Sceva topped the hill and looked down the road upon the town of Heiden. The rolling hills tumbled down into the valley, carrying the scattered farms eagerly to the road and the city’s walls. The Ocu river wound its way between the hills, reflecting sunlight into his squinting eyes.

As he entered the city gates, he stopped one of the townspeople.

"Excuse me, where may I find the magistrate?"

The lumberjack gave him directions, then continued on his way. Sceva found himself in the magistrate’s office a few minutes later. He introduced himself to Magistrate Dillon Hollingsworth, a tall, thin, clean-shaven man with a close haircut. He seemed to Sceva as if he were some oddly displaced acolyte of Arhus, making up for his separation by getting as close to the justice system as possible.

"What brings you to Heiden," he asked after the pleasantries were over.

"The Lady Elminoir guided me here. She only revealed that you would need my help."

"I don’t know..." Hollingsworth began, just as his door opened and an elderly man entered.

"Forgive me for interrupting, sir, but the deputy I spoke to said I should."

"That’s quite alright," the Magistrate replied, "how may I help you?"

"Well, sir, I’m Preston Granville, and I live in Braxton, one of the farm villages to the north. Some of our cattle have mysteriously died in the last few days, and we’re concerned that it’s something... unnatural."

"Unnatural how," Sceva asked.

"Well, I’ve heard a lot of stories about a lot of things that I always thought were just stories, but I’m beginning to think that some of them are true."

"Like what?"

"Like... vampires."