From the dawn of the human civilisation, caravans have always been harbingers of both mystery and wonder. They are the bearers of foreign spices, lush fabrics and other luxury goods from lands far distant. Vibrant cultures and knowledge from lands distant will often find themselves spread throughout the various far-flung settlements which lie far from their often-humble origins. These boons containing knowledge and wealth are not the only travellers which find themselves joining the wandering merchants. Fetid diseases, ruminations of prejudice and unseen dangers are likewise carried unto unsuspecting towns, often unknown to the unfortunate merchants who unwittingly carry them.

English Countryside – England, 1470s

The relatively sudden emergence of mankind was but a fleeting forethought for the English Countryside which had seen countless species fade into existence over the eons, only to fade out once more. The sole mark of humanity’s existence on the untamed wildlands was that of a well-trod earthen path that wound throughout the landscape. Clusters of long grass lining this crude divide in nature, constantly threaten to reclaim the land that had been repurposed in the pursuit of man’s supposed progress.

A lone figure wandered through the cold autumn, night adhering to the well-worn path as he progressed toward to his unknown destination. The presence of the lone wanders drove the local inhabitants of the road darting for whatever cover they could find with-in the dense and thriving weeds. A brown travelling cloak covered his choice in travelling attire: a selection of leather padding that covered his otherwise simple clothing. The man’s worn visage bore the rugged appearance that was far too common for those embroiled in a life of violence. Whilst one might mistake William’s ragged appearance for that of a mercenary or other variety of hired muscle, his garments were engraved with the symbols and writing derived from his holy scripture.

The wanderer’s attention was drawn to the enchanting lights that originated from some isolated outpost of civilisation that stood atop of some unremarkable grass-covered hill. From his position on the earthen path, he could identify the outlines of an assortment of wagons that, in all likelihood, belonged to the caravan of traders that he was pursuing. Presumably the merchants were waiting for the break of dawn before continuing their endless travels towards whatever town, collective or commune that they proceeded to. He legs drew him closer to the outcrop of humanity before him, the man’s ears were slowly filled with the sounds of soulful music and idle chatter as he closed the distance with the caravan.

The man in question was William, an archaic hunter from an often-hidden church order. William was drawn to this caravan under instruction by the high priest. The officials with-in the church had caught onto queer reports of vampires hiding with-in one of the many caravans that travelled through the countryside. The reports in question had been received from the numerous churches that dotted the northern border between England and Scotland. The reports in question were peculiarly vague, confusing, and often contradictory, ordinarily they would have been dismissed as either rumour or speculation without any action being taken. The most common thread among the reports was that at least one vampire, whose sex varied depending on the report, was operating with-in the confines of the caravan. While some accounts disputed this, claiming tales of hags, daemons or other such dark creatures which were considered an outlier with-in the reports. However, the reviewing body concluded that the being was simply misidentified as the vampire seemed to carry with a wide variety of bizarre potions or other peculiar alms, of which they applied to the townsfolk for payment.

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Vampires are night-dwelling creatures whose core identity is strongly tied to the dark magical element. Most of mankind’s knowledge of these nocturnal creatures is derived from the accounts of terrified survivors in congruence of various tales from ancient folk law. There are several annals that recount with meticulous detail the aftermath of humanities attempts at extermination of a induvidual vampires. Due to manor in which they feed, which is to say the consumption of blood, they are usually societal outcasts and are often forced to abduct their meals, leading to the predictably gruesome and bloody results. Contrary to common conception the blood itself is not the primary food source, which is in fact the energy taken from the soul which circulates the body using the blood as a bio-conduit.

Their ties to the black magical element manifest in numerous manners, for instance their souls are generators of potentially immense spiritual power, that can re-enforce their body and increasing their physical prowess. This comes at the cost of an increased vulnerability to light-based magic that weakens the soul’s bond with its host which in turn can render the vampire immobile. This extends to sunlight which takes a constant toll on their body, affecting even the more powerful vampires that can lose consciousness due to prolonged exposure.

This power and control over their soul does not just apply to their own soul. Their bite naturally severs the soul of their prey upon prolonged contact. The vampire’s bite will replace their victim’s soul with a minute portion of their magic, binding it to their soul. The body is now under the full control of the vampire, turning the now soulless body into nothing more than a puppet made of flesh. These soulless creatures are commonly referred to as thralls and are often likened to zombies, though there are minor differences in intelligence and biological complexity between the too. Vampires can also invite other souls into their own and then physically manifest those souls at will. Records have labelled these creations as Familiars, though they are these are extremely rare as many vampires are unaware as to how to form the pact.

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Under a different set of circumstances William would travel with an assortment of highly trained warriors and clerics to safety deal with whatever threat they were made aware of, however given the dubious credibility of the information received that it was not deemed to be worthy of any serious attention. Much of the senior clergy had dismissed the overly imaginative tales as a mere wiccan which did not warrant much attention when more pressing issues were at stake across the sea. The reports did not include any hallmarks of a pervasive threat, such as the brutal murders or disappearances that were typical of the horrendous creatures. A more paranoid voice amongst the councils decided to ere on the side of caution and send an experienced hunter alone to survey the situation to confirm whether the reports were result of cumulative speculation of the commonfolk.

Arriving at the aforementioned caravan, William surveyed the cluster of wagons and their inhabitants as it spanned before him. By his hasty estimates there were around forty-five people were standing around the various fire places, drinking and chatting amongst themselves. Many of the women in the camp were making adjustments and repairs to piles of damaged clothing. The men swapped stories whilst performing maintenance on the assortment of wagons, harnesses and what other necessary contraptions they required to operate their trade. Solitary figures fanned out on the extremities of the camp, standing watch in constant vigilance against the multitude of opportunistic aggressors that dwell outside the bounds of civilised society. The guards were, in all likelihood, recruited from some of the more successful mercenary bands. They quickly identified the lone transgressor, reforming their organisation to confront the strange arrival that slowly approached the caravan.

Several members of the caravan guard quickly formed a blockade of flesh and steel, forcing William meet them on the dark threshold which lay on the border between the wild fields and their small bastion of humanity. The guards, armed with any array of differing weapons, did not actively threaten William with violence, rather conveyed it through their body language that they were ready to act on any sign of violence. One of the smaller of watchmen spoke first, stating with whatever authority he held: “State your business!” William slowly raised his empty hands, in a gesture of good faith. “My name is William. The church has tasked me with observing some of the caravans passing through the region.” The migrating caravans were no stranger to the gaze of the powerful forces that claimed dominion over whatever path they travelled, the church was no exception. An informal network of all castes had been established to inform the merchants of the particulars of the locals they passed through. Customs, laws, religious views, regulations, dangerous individuals, and other such insights which they used to traverse the social constraints and desires of the dominant culture of the region.

The guards exchanged apprehensive looks, conveying a rapid wordless debate. The guards had ultimately decided to let the stranger pass as the implications of defying one of the larger regional influencers would not be in the convoy’s best interest. “You may enter. However, cause trouble and you will be thrown out. Speak with Edward before you do anything, he should be in his wagon back there.” The guard’s hostile hand gesture pointed towards the centre of the conglomeration. William nodded in understanding before entering the camp.

William had mostly eliminated any member with any seniority as the source of the rumours. Most caravan leaders usually become so after several years of experience with-in the caravan, either familial or through succession planning. Each caravan had its own quirks and structures depending on anything from religion, region, travel routes, guild or simply the founding members. As such it was unlikely that a newcomer would be able to run a caravan as such without word travelling from merchants.

The sight of families and friends were strewn around the various wagons, tents and fires. Surrounding them were the large crates and boxes which lay around the camp were marked with a variety of logos and heralds, representing the various merchant guilds and local lords who supplied the goods. The most common one was the crest of the Carpenter Trading Guild, with a few smaller ones scattered amongst the cargo. A few of the assorted rabble gave a loud and drunken greeting to the new arrival, while others averted their gaze ultimately deciding their affairs would be best kept hidden. A brief conversation with some of the more welcoming members pointed William towards one of the larger wagons, covered with a frame and weathered cloth. Sitting on the wagon’s edge was an old man carving something out of a bit of wood. His old, weathered face stood fixated on a wooden block, his knife meticulously carving out small slices forming some shape whose final form was not yet known.

The man turned his wrinkled head upwards to the newcomer, his mouth grew to form an almost toothless smile. He set the half-carved block, as well as the well-used carving knife, down on the worn lip of the wagon. Turning his attention to the newcomer. “Well… a stranger approaches the caravan on a dark night. Names’ Edward, ‘m the leader of this caravan.” The old man eyed the stranger up and down, assessing his worth. “Ye be one them folks from the church then.” There was no point hiding it, the Latin inscriptions on his outfit gave away his affiliation. He simply nodded. “Aye, that I am.” Adjusting himself, Edward grabbed a nearby cup and started to fiddle aimlessly around with it without averting his gaze. “What can I do fer ya? Need som’ fine wine? how ‘bout some cloth from the south? I might be able to round up some idols from around the camp.” William raised a hand in protest, cutting the time-worn merchant short, “unfortunately, I am here on other business.”

The aged figure took a mouth full of some ale from his cup, “I am guessin’ ye’ want to skip straight to business then.” William nodded in appreciation; he did not wish to allow his foul quarry to remain free longer than was necessary. “‘Fore we get down to it, I’m gonna ask somethin’ from ya.” Williams’ passive expression remained motionless; his lack of any visible objection was an invitation to continue with whatever crooked offer or bizarre invited the elderly merchant to continue. “Would ya mind tryin’ to avoid disrupting our group as ye can? We’re doing our jobs, you see. Ye be doing yours. It’s life, we just don’t want to be caught up in whatever business you ‘ave.”

William’s passing assessment of the camp confirmed that it appeared to be an ordinary human caravan with no apparent traces of magic or arcane goods. It held the same aura as every other human settlement he had visited in his seemingly endless travels. While the camp was in better shape than some of the feted holes which housed an assortment of vagrants. It also held none of the exorbitant luxury that manors of nobles, who prided themselves on their wealth at often spectacular cost. He would reserve judgement on the motives and innocence of the caravan, but he would likely spare it any thorough scrutiny. The caravan was involved with his target some manner, but they did not appear to be much in the way of active accomplices. “I am not sure I can promise that. I’ve only just arrived and don’t know much about the situation.” “what ‘ave ye’ heard?” “Rumors, dark ones. There are multiple reports of: Vampires, hags and witches.”

“She ought to ‘ave been more careful” Edward let out a mournful chuckle seemingly directed towards an unknown guest before continuing with his tale. “’bout ten or so towns back a Vampire joined our caravan. She approached us holdin’ a commundashun from one of our tradin’ partners. She revealed her true self to the moor senior folk, but she asked ta be left alone for the most part. She wanted to practice her craft and do sum tradin’ on the side. She was true to her word; she keeps to herself and we don’t bother her unless we need somethin’. We’ve ‘ad no issues so far, probably nicer company than sum of our own.”

The grim look of annoyance crept onto his face, it was far too clean and peaceful for his liking. “What was the name of the trader who recommended her?” “Rauf, he is one of th’ managers of the Carpenter Guild, she worked fer him fer a few years.” It now appeared that the Vampire had dwelled with-in society for several years and only due to her recent movements did the church catch on. “Has the vampire ever harmed anyone? Bit anyone?” William asked tentatively. The old man let out a laugh, “Usually it’s the oppos’te. I suppose… someone tried ta drunkenly hit on her a few times, she punched ‘im when he got a bit handsy. I suppose that isn’t wat you be lookin’ fer.” If not for his word that this was in fact a vampire, nothing as described to him so far would indicate that his target held any notions of paranormal ability. His annoyance at the whole affair began to mix with a sudden onset of incredulity. “You mean to say that for years this creature has lived among us and only now has an honourable man come forward to reveal her damned existence?”

William’s interview with Edward over the caravan’s heretical new member was interrupted with the arrival of a young girl who was, at that moment, slowly approaching the pair, limping towards the wagon. The girl looked to be around 16 or 18 years old, her mousy hair bounced as she lurched forward with each timid step. She was walking with the aid of two make-shift crutches. Each calculated motion ensured that her bound and broken leg did not shift, as to avoid misaligning her still healing bone. The old man called out to her “evenin’ Beatrice, how’s the leg?” They briefly exchanged pleasantries as William waited patiently, contemplating the implications of the prior conversation. Beatrice turned her attention to William, “Victoria has asked me to come and get you. Not sure why, but follow me.” Edward’s expression suddenly changed into that of bemusement and started heartily laughing, before quickly abandoning his prior conversation as to usher them away. He waved the pair off with a mocking “don’t keep yer quarry waiting!” Whilst several more unanswered questions were left abandoned, the abrupt change in circumstances that he was forced to forgo any information which could be gleamed from any prolonged conversation. His prey sought an audience with him. While he could not determine her intent, with any semblance of his honour demanded that he meet with her.