Traveling Wagon Vampire Hunter

The wagon groaned as it rolled to a halt at the clearing’s edge, its warped frame etching jagged silhouettes in the faint glow of dawn. The Dhampir, draped in a patched and faded cloak, moved with calculated precision, unloading a second coffin from the wagon’s rear. In the first coffin, a lifeless vampire lay secured with layers of rope, its chest punctured by stakes. From the side of the wagon, the Dhampir pulled a second box—not for the dead, but a mobile arsenal of their craft. Inside lay swords chipped from skirmishes, mallets worn smooth with age, stakes freshly shaped from oak, and coils of garlic strung with care. With quiet reverence, they inspected each piece, their lips forming prayers over a weathered Bible resting atop the driver’s seat.