He reached the encampment just as night fell.
He was soaked to the bone. His boots were caked in mud up to the ankle. His hair was limp and sopping and it clung in thin, sad strands to his cheeks. The rain hadn't let up for hours, and it had made him a sorry sight indeed. In the distance, through the mist and the heavy downpour, he'd spotted it: half a dozen thin, silvery snakes of smoke rising from a cleft between the mountains. It was enough to hope that, whomever these people were, they were numerous enough that they had a gods-damned map of this place among them. It would be dangerous to try. He would have to be careful. But still, against his better judgment, he trudged on towards that singular sign of civilization.
The mud grew slick as Ven approached. He kept a firm grip on his staff. He could barely see his fingers in the waning light, but it was enough to know that they were filthy. He did not like to be so unkempt. A bath, he thought. My right hand for a bath. He desperately needed one. He did not stink in the way that a living man would after weeks of survival in the wilderness, nor did he ache as such. Even so, he wanted nothing more than a warm soak and a pot of ash soap and to dry out on a cedar mat in the sun. He had memories, some faint and some sharp as flint, of the steaming sulfur pools of his living years. Of washing away the day's toil and the weight and weariness of war. Yet, though the mountains that loomed above him looked as young and jagged as those he could recall, he'd seen nothing of the sort in these lands.
A patrol. Even in this weather. He hadn't seen the guardsman coming and now he was within an arrow's flight of the man. Shit, Ven thought. He quickly ducked off the beaten path and pushed in past the treeline. He pulled his mask up over his nose to hide his pallor. He waited. Somehow, blessedly, he had not been spotted. He breathed a sigh of relief and continued on, now weaving between the bushes and trunks. At last, he reached the palisade. These strange folk had built it well. It was a struggle to scale, and he cursed them beneath his breath. Nevertheless, he found his way up like a boy would shinny up a tree. He dropped to the other side and caught his fall with his staff.
Lights. Sounds. People. There were people everywhere, here, and now he could smell them. He grimaced. He had fed the demon that morning to pacify it. Somewhere, miles behind him, an unfortunate farmer was less a herd of cattle. He was sure the trail of death he'd left would rouse suspicion, yet he'd done what he must to keep the demon in check. But still, he felt its pull. It seemed it would not relent until it took a stronger life. A human life.
A sudden, keen awareness struck him of just how foolish he'd been by coming here. He brushed it away. He was here now, and he might as well finish this. He pressed on, clinging to the shadows, watching these odd folk come and go. Some of them were armored. Many of them wore tabards. Of all of the places I could have chosen, he admonished himself as he slid past a window, I have found the one armed most to the teeth. He chanced to glance in. His heart, though it didn't beat, leapt at the sight of a desk — and on that desk, a map.
He tested the window. It swung ajar. The room was empty. Could it be so easy?
He'd come this far. He'd try it. As quietly as he could, Ven hoisted himself through the window and landed with a soft squelch. He stopped. Listened. Still nothing. Nodding to himself, he began to cross the room towards his prize.
Without warning, footsteps pounded against the floor. Ven jumped. Panicked. Someone approached all too fast for him to hide. A woman rounded the corner, dressed in that same tabard he'd seen on the others, calling over her shoulder as she walked. "A mo', I've just got to run back and — " She stopped. Her pale eyes widened in alarm as she looked him up and down. "And who the hell are you supposed to be? Wh..."
"My apologies. I shouldn't be here." Ven dropped his staff to clatter on the ground. He raised his hands, palms out in a gesture of nonviolence. He ducked his head and backed away, step by step, hoping to the gods that she hadn't seen his —
"VAMPIRE!" She screamed. "To me! We have a vampire!"
He winced. This night was about to be a lot more miserable.