The Priest, Curiambro, sat in his consultation booth in a dark and shadowed room. His mask sewn securely onto his face and his hair formally combed back. He wore formal clothes with his bluish gray vestments hung around his neck, a single red eye peering out from the mask that hid the withered, hollowed cheeks that craved blood. Outside, several Bloodfiends are hunched over, wrapped in cloth as if in penitence. “The next, please come, to confess. Quickly, now.”