With a sudden thud the door of the Tavern flies open and standing in the doorway is a mountain of a creature, his large white fangs glistening in the brightness of the moon outside. The blackness of his eyes could penetrate the purest of souls, his leathery wing's suddenly outstreatch as he shakes the excess water obtained from the storm ouside, the Tavern falls silent, and the Bartender reaches for his stake while patrons clutch their loved ones. Then with a shrilling clearing of the throat the Vampire strides across the room and up to the bar towards the terrified tender and says " Can I please have a dry white wine with a slice of lemon, terrible weather outside don't you think".
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Time is only relevant if you have none !