You walk down the narrow street, the snow crunching under your boots, the frozen washing hanging on the balconies above creaking in the wind. The streetlights aren’t working again—only one flickers slightly, making a faint buzzing noise, before it, too, dies, and plunges you in nearly complete darkness.
Then, your worst fears come true. You’re not alone in the dark alleyway. You hear a familiar, gurgling noise coming from the pile of rubbish bags gathered in the corner.
It’s the noise an upir makes when trying to inhale through what’s left of its nasal cartilage.
Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, you see the creature—pale, bloated, crouching between the rubbish. Its eyes are bloodshot, and when it opens its mouth, it’s full of needle-sharp teeth.
What do you do?
You take the garlic out of your satchel, and you bite into it. See how you like them apples—I mean, garlics!
You take the garlic out of your satchel, and you throw it at the creature.
You take the garlic out of your satchel, quickly separate the cloves with trembling fingers, and you throw them at the upir.
Garlic? What garlic?... Oh, that garlic! You ate it earlier, when you started feeling a bit peckish at the pub.