A vampire steps over the threshold of the church to find a priest finishing a small prayer at the altar. The vampire moves with demonic speed toward its free meal, but a figure rises from the shadows over the pews, draws a pair of silver daggers, and steps in front of the soulless hunter.
“They told me you’d drop by,” the figure says. “Welcome.”
A flash of silver arcs through the air. The vampiric mists clear from the area by
Wherever good things exist in the world, certain rogues walk the shadows to head off evil. These shadowy warriors are called by many names: demon hunters, exorcists, hellsingers (among the elves), but they refer to themselves as Nightingales – the little birds that lament
the dark hour of night.
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