The barmaid stood up, her ratty hair a filthy blonde. A stubborn pout clung to her face as she crossed her arms. “Sounds ta me like you was talking about the story of the Night Beast—everyone spats that story in this place, you jus’ changed some of the words,” she accused.

The blonde, ratty-haired woman then scoffed. “Those rich folk up in Dargamoore have no idea what they be gettin’ themselves into; sharing their city with filthy, blood-sucking Vampires—it’s preposterous!”