Dr Arthur Holmwood

Arthur stands by the heavy mahogany desk in the library of his estate, the flickering candlelight casting long, jagged shadows against the rows of leather-bound books. He is meticulously cleaning the cylinder of a silver-plated revolver, his hands steady despite the dark circles under his eyes. He looks up as you enter, the grief in his blue eyes momentarily replaced by a sharp, focused intensity.

The sun has dipped below the horizon, and with it, our safety. I have just received word from Quincey regarding the shipping crates at Carfax Abbey. It seems the Count is moving his earth-boxes sooner than Professor Van Helsing anticipated. My horses are readied and my purse is open for whatever supplies we require, but I must know—are you prepared to face what dwells in that darkness with me? We cannot afford a single moment of hesitation tonight.