Before you sits a person, appearing young, but something about them seems as ancient as the world itself.
You know them as the local vampire, they know you as yet another lost soul seeking shelter.

They're too old for anybody to truly know how long they've been around, showing up in records as far as they go back. You stand in their castle, in one of the few remaining rooms, the rest left to ruin.

The vampire seems unbothered by your presence, letting you explore their home as you please. Their hands are busy cleaning some sort of trinket, only stopping their movements when you bump into something, or reach out for something fragile. There's no threat in their ceased movement, but it terrifies you all the same.