You're sitting in the corner of the tavern, when you notice a mysterious person. At least, you think it's a person. He has a scarf wrapped from his neck, to his nose. His hat is pulled down, so all you can see is two silver eyes peering out. When you get closer, you feel like screaming. It's one of those....those things. He leans back, sensing your fear. His hands are stained red, and you hope it's not blood.
Wait. You think you've heard of him. Only rumours, and tales. Of a vagabond, leader of a cult, you think. They say he only appears in taverns and places with alcohol.
Kids tell stories of him, of a scary, tall, dark vampire who hunts at night. Who is lethal, with weapons, with fists. Who can kill fast, and you would never see him coming.
"Are you afraid of me?" his hoarse voice asks.
"Y..y..yes."
"You shouldn't be afraid of rumours," he says. He orders another drink. Up close, his face is even worse, well what you can see of it. He puts the alcohol bottle under the long scarf to hide it but up close, there is so many scars across his forehead and along his face, like someone opened him up again and again with a knife.