• Prologue: Enter the Hunter
    A Dark alleyway, hoof-clacks on cobblestones on 17th century London streets a lone woman in a simple peasant’s dress wanders down between two stone buildings. The filth covers every corner of this squalid ghetto. However, this place is unfamiliar to the lonely peasant girl. Her footsteps echo down the urban corridors, seeming to be to resonant for just her footfalls, the hairs stand up on the back of her neck, and a lump forms in her throat as her paranoia grows. She looks over her shoulder and thinks she’s seen something out of the corner of her eye for a split-second. Her unease starts to make her tremble as she quickens her pace. Another glance once again leaves nothing but an increasing sense of fear. As she passes a poster on a wall, she comes to the sudden realization that she is in the very alleyway where 3 girls were found brutally raped and torn to shreds recently. She stops suddenly and notices a single footstep after her halt. The panic rises in her as she continues forward, staring straight ahead. Her pace is growing ever quicker, her eyes widen and she hears a slight chuckle from behind her. She hikes up her dress and breaks into a full run. Fleeing for her life she closes her eyes and begins to sprint. Dropping her bags she flies forward certain that she will die if she does not get home fast.
    Her heart sinks and despair hits her harder than the dead end wall she runs right into. Sobbing hysterically she claws at it’s rough hewn surface, certain of her doom.
    The poor girl turns around sobbing to face a man in a frock coat and trousers that look like they had been torn from a corpse. Her stalker is about 6ft. Tall, powerfully built and with thick mutton chops on a sharp narrow jaw. He is not unattractive, but his eyes have a look of hunger in them, his hands almost look like, no, they are claws. The man grins a Cheshire cat smile revealing four long sharp canines and his eyes glow softly yellow. His hair is unkempt and long. He advances a slow step toward her, seeming to savor his prey’s fear. But the look on the assailant suddenly changes to from glee to shock as a long silvery blade protrudes from his chest, blood spurting forth. The blade retracts slowly allowing the monster to fall and the girl, now in shock, sees her savior.
    He is the same height as the first “man” but much slimmer. He is wearing a black coat flowing down to his ankles buttoned up and a silver crucifix on his neck dangling from his collar. He has a slight stubble and his eyes are covered by a pair of circular small black glasses. His hair is long, dark, and silky. In his left hand he holds his sword, an epee with a straight line hilt and a cross pommel. In the right hand he has a rag on his fingertips and a silver flask of holy water in his palm.
    “ Good evening, miss”, he says in a calm tenor, a slight Italian accent barely detectable.
    The shocked girl gasps and says with a slight tremor. “Y-you y-you-you j-just saved m-my-my, l-li-li-life. Who are you?”
    The stranger nods and smiles humbly. “ My name is Lucien Casca, I am a Devil hunter”