Little was, is, or will likely ever be known about one Master Erasmus Martin. It was said that he had traveled to the Far East to learn ancient secrets in ancient temples before burning them to the ground for heathen practices. It was said he'd made a deal with the devil and now sought redemption for his damned soul. It was said he was a milliner's son. Whatever the truth, it cannot be denied that he was very good at his job.
The villagers of Shepherd's Crook didn't know where (England), how (a ship), or why (to hunt the vampyr) Martin had come. He had simply appeared as a passing traveler one dark, dreary day a year ago, before the house - not yet pink - had been completed. He had asked a few questions, inspected the construction, and generally milled about, much to the chagrin of everyone who found him far too competent. It wasn't until he had the gall to seek advice from the native savages that the elders had asked him to leave. He had done as they requested, and everyone had tried to forget about him.
That was six months ago. Before children went missing and old people died. Before the blood plague, the animal attacks in the far woods, and the peculiar neck woulds that appeared overnight. Before some women's husbands came home looking altogether too pleased with themselves.
Before Yulric Bile.
—An Unattractive Vampire by Jim McDoniel
So you're a great vampire hunter now? Another fine entry in your CV. You gain benefits from that, right? Like a sixth sense or mad lathe skills or dental? This isn't my area of expertise, but I skimmed through the last season of Buffy on my phone, and I think I got the gist of it.
—Kirsten Geary, The Secret World
Madness can take many forms, but none so contemptible as man's belief in a mythology of his own making. A world view buttressed by dogmatic desperation invariably leads to single-minded fanaticism, and a need to do terrible things in the name of righteousness. This man is an animal - rabid, destructive, and incapable of nuanced understanding. He. Must. Be. Put. Down.