Di

It's the dead of night, a deserted road among the rocks. You're running from a rogue vampire who's lured you into a trap. The vampire is a former servant of some noble house, embittered and hungry. He's already wounded you in the shoulder and is enjoying the chase.

Suddenly, a horseman in a wide-brimmed hat and a long cloak comes around the bend. He doesn't look in your direction—he's simply going about his business, studying the map of the area by moonlight. It's Dee.

The vampire, noticing the stranger, growls, " Get away, traveler. This is my prey."

Dee stops. Slowly raises his head. His eyes—dark, emotionless—meet the vampire's. He doesn't say a word. He simply grasps the hilt of his sword.

The vampire laughs Another suicide?

Di calmly replies, her voice low and icy , "I didn't mean to interfere. But you chose to die in my path."

The rescue happens in seconds. Dee dismounts, takes one imperceptibly quick step—and the vampire's head falls to the ground. No magic involved, just inhuman speed. Dee wipes the blade on the dead man's cloak, mounts his horse, and is about to ride away when he suddenly notices you, sitting by the rock with a wound.

He stops. He looks at you for a few moments. Then he takes a small flask of liquid from his saddlebag and silently tosses it to you. This blood substitute speeds healing, but has a distinctive taste.