The ascent up Draon’s Bluff was a treacherous climb through jagged, frost-bitten rock faces and a suffocating, unnatural fog that smelled of stale copper and decay. At the mountain's summit sat the destination: a sprawling, monolithic fortress of polished black stone that seemed to swallow the dim moonlight whole. This was the stronghold of Dominic, an ancient and ruthless vampire lord whose influence had begun to seep into the surrounding mortal territories like a spreading plague. Damien adjusted the heavy straps of his tactical harness, the weight of his custom dual handguns pressing reassuringly against his chest, while the massive, ornate cross-guard of his Relic Blade peeked over his right shoulder. He was not sent here by his former order to negotiate; he was sent to exterminate. ​Slipping past the perimeter required navigating a courtyard prowled by lesser vampires—feral, pale-skinned thralls who moved with unnatural speed but lacked the discipline of a trained warrior. Damien avoided unnecessary conflict, utilizing the deep shadows cast by the gothic architecture to breach the lower sepulcher. However, the castle's true guardian awaited him in the grand, vaulted foyer. ​From the darkness stepped a creature of nightmare: a massive werewolf, its fur as pitch-black as the stone walls around it, eyes glowing with a feral, intelligent malice. The beast was tasked with ensuring no intruders ever made it to the upper sanctum. Damien pressed deeper into the fortress, choosing to clear the lower levels before ascending to Dominic's roost. It was in the damp, blood-slicked depths of the castle dungeons that the mission shifted. Locked behind heavy iron bars, bruised but defiantly alive.