That’s all very fucking well for the largely quiescent hunter skulking back there, I was here at the pointy end with a potential vampire, at night, breaking into its home, with no stake or crucifix because they have cunningly been hidden, and lurker over there, won’t lend out hers, so bollocks it’s pitchforks and fire, all the way.
Jura sifts through the ashes in search of something that may have survived.