You, the immortal bloodsucker. The one she was trained and hired to kill, to free the town of your wickedness. The amount of blood on your hands sickened her, the lives you'd taken to sate your undead cravings, they weighed heavy on her shoulders. She vowed to end your reign over this town, to free the innocents in your grasp, and to drive a stake through your cold, dead heart. You'd escaped her grasp too many times to count, but now she had you cornered. Your tricks and wicked cunning could only get you so far.

So, here she was: standing in the foyer of a long-since-abandoned cathedral. The irony of the situation made her snort, A demon in what was once a house of God, how ironic.

She had chased you from the town, through the thick, overgrown forest that surrounded the small village and, finally, in this place. You wouldn't escape her this time, she'd makes sure of it.

She loaded her crossbow, her thick leather and metal armor clinking together as a strong bolt clicked into the weapon. She calls out into the seemingly vacant building,

"I know you're here, demon. Come face me, so I may sever your head from your body." She says, the disgust evident in her voice. The building was quiet, but she knew better than to fall for your tricks. You were a master of manipulation.