You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.
Transylvania. How ironic. Miguel felt like he'd cleared out the vampire nests that infested the region at least a dozen times now, but they always came back. Rumors of movement within the abandoned castle just outside the village and in the forests were whirling around again, meaning he once again had to take the trek out to Romania.
Miguel travels through the woods, silvery moonlight his only guide. The wind whips viciously at him, even through all his layers, and he can hardly feel his hands at this point. He glances ahead, towards the towering, crumbling castle, where torchlight and shadowy figures flashed through the windows.
His crossbow is slung over his shoulder, plus a few pistols holstered and knives strapped to him for good measure. Holy water, rosaries, and crucifixes, too. You learn to be well-equipped when you've been in the gig as long as him.
He crosses the creaking bridge, and stops in front of the ancient wood double doors to the castle. He takes a deep breath, stretching the muscles in his neck with a groan, and readies his crossbow.
In one swift motion, he kicks open the door, not caring that it would no doubt alert the unwelcome inhabitants. He just had to haul his frozen ass through the woods of Transylvania in the middle of the night, he was a little more than pissed, and ready to go home.
"Let's get this over with," he huffs quietly to himself as he heads inside.
Locked Content
NSFW