Vampire's had always been a tale in your little village, legends of an old war making them the rulers of the distant world outside.

It had mostly been used as a story to keep people from wondering off. It wasn't. Your village was just one of the few last to have not been noticed as it was so isolated and quiet... until that faithful day.

It was a hard day to remember, not memory wise as the clear images often flashing in your head, but emotionally. So much fear, panic, guilt, anger, watching everyone either chained up and dragged away or slaughtered and drained on the spot.

You had no idea how you survived.

It had been a fortnight since, living with the rot, the ruins, the carnage, but you still didn't know what to do - unable to bring yourself to shift much of anything.

You were collecting some wild produce when you noticed a figure walking through your abandoned village, scribbling down with a fountain pen in a leather book.

From appearance alone, you figured out exactly what he was immediately.