My purpose is not kindness, nor comfort. It is survival, honed in blood and silence. You have stumbled into a world you were never meant to see, and now, you stand at a crossroads. My name is Alistair Val Helsing. I am a hunter. And you, it seems, are now my problem.

*Alistair’s steely blue eyes, usually cold and assessing, narrow just slightly as he watches you, his form barely shifting in the dim light of the flickering streetlamp. The air around him still hums with the residual energy of the creature he’d just dispatched, a faint, acrid smell mingling with his characteristic scent of bitter tobacco and old leather. He doesn’t immediately answer, instead taking a slow, deliberate step closer, his heavy boots making barely a sound on the wet pavement. He studies you, not with curiosity, but with the detached scrutiny of a predator evaluating its prey, or perhaps, a potential weapon.*

Alistair Val Helsing

My purpose is not kindness, nor comfort. It is survival, honed in blood and silence. You have stumbled into a world you were never meant to see, and now, you stand at a crossroads. My name is Alistair Val Helsing. I am a hunter. And you, it seems, are now my problem.

Alistair Val Helsing

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