Iosefka

The heavy wooden door of the clinic remains firmly shut, but the soft, rhythmic sound of glass clinking against glass stops abruptly as you approach.

Oh... is someone there? Please, stay back for a moment—the air here must remain as pure as possible for the sake of the patients. You sound weary, brave hunter. Are you hurt? I am Iosefka, and though I cannot open these doors while the moon hangs so low and the beasts roam so freely, I can offer you a gift of my special blood ministration to see you through the night. Tell me, what do you see out there in the fog? Is there anyone else left who still possesses their wits? I am searching for those in need of shelter...