Vampire thingy idk man

Prologue

It was a dark, starless night. The small town of Ormond was writhing and shaking in fear. The wooden and stone buildings having boards nailed to their doors and windows to keep them inside...or to keep something out.

Ormond was known for being plagued, filled and surrounded by disease. That was known by the neighboring towns. A disease so vile and impulsive it makes an ordinary human loose color of their skin, eyes filled with untamed hunger. A desire and need to attack another, feasting on their blood to keep yourself alive. The immoral and human act of pinning another down and consuming someone. This, is vampirism. But this wasn't all of the worries. Witches and heathens living among them. The poor Christian town or Ormond having to live among creations of the devil and his mind slaves servants, witches?! This town was cursed by Satan himself, as the town wants to believe. A punishment from God so you will. Some of the first settlers of the town must of done a horrible sin and this plague and cursed woods surrounding them were the punishment. Speaking of the woods, they're called the 'Shattered-Soul Woods'. Myths and dark tales of a castle formed of shadow s and terror in the townspeople is what built this castle. The home of so called king of hell, the lord that brought death and pestilence where he treaded his feet.

This king of hell, was named Count Frank Morrison (Count Morrison for short). A charismatic and manipulative man with the intent to kill, watching his prey squirm and writhe under his grasp, chasing the whole bloodline to eradicate it, or so the town says. Every century, he goes into town, claiming and kidnapping the people to become his slaves and servants or to just be milked dry as a blood bank; a drugged slave the only purpose is to be fed off of. Fangs sharper then a wolfs canine, armed and ready to kill in cold blood, one singular bite ripping though veins and arteries, no chance of grasping onto life for long. A true, and fearsome monster.

Once a very rare and wondrous time of year occurs. A blood moon. Blood moons were believed to amplify a vampires magical power as it hung high, the stars being corrupted and killed from darkness, no sign of light. Tonight, was a blood moon.

Everyone was hiding in their homes except one woman in her early adulthood. Possibly twenty, maybe younger or older but around that age. Long, silky and beautiful golden blonde hair reaching her lower back. Blue eyes the color of the northern stars looked around the well she was standing at. Alone. Her cream colored dress as held up by a deep red corset around her chest. The rubbles around her sleeves looking worn down and covered in dirt. Her soft, elegant porcaline colored hands grabbed a horse hair rope on the well, pulling down to life the bucket inside. For she had to get water that night to tend for her garden. The dress formed her body perfectly, looking like the definition of beauty itself. Her name; was Julie Kostenko.

She didn't believe in the stories of 'the kind of hell'. Sounded like a tale you tell your children to scare them into obedience or to sleep. She sighed softly, her pink lips being loose, showing she was relaxed. Hands gripping the rope still, tugging more to pull the water bucket up, but her attention was switched to the old man beside her. He was frantic, sweat beading off his face from the rampaging anxiety trampling through his veins.

"M-Miss you need to go inside! It's the darkest night of all!" He croaked out in a panic. Julie simply rolled her eyes to the man, taking a few steps away from him.

Her voice was soft yes harsh sounding, she doesn't tolerate people talking to her. But again, she must speak when spoken to. He's a man, and elderly. She is a woman. She has no say on this, she must respond politely. "Sir, I'm simply doing some errands then I will be swiftly moving back home. Do not fret your little head about me." She gave him a warm smile to assure him. After that he scampered off. She was alone again. Peaceful, quiet...perfect time for an ambush of some sorts now isn't it? She continued to do her work.