The dwarven cleric thinks for a moment.
"I've never seen a vampire myself, not even the one who attacked Sandemar. But as far as I know, the wound doesn't heal wholly without the help of strong clerical influence. That's one of the reasons why many a party of the warriors died during the time when the kingdoms were at open war, the bite of a vampire weakens the body, draining it of blood.
I myself am not strong enough to help here."
The elf reveals a smile.
"I accept your apology."
He bows the upper portion of his body slightly.
"Now, to get back to my story. After we had taken care of the skeletons, we had a moment to catch our breath and tend to our wounded.
But then we heard it: an empty sounding howl of hunger. We didn't know what it was a first, untill we saw them. It was a pack of zombie wolves, running towards us.
Tired of our last battle, we had to flee and had no chance to gather any loot from the undead. The pack of wolves was incredibly fast, we could barely stay out of their teeth with our tired horses. We had to ride to the mountains and they just kept coming after us. We couldn't risk revealing them where the path we had used to get past the Mountain and had to face them.
They attacked us, their jagged teeth ready to rip the flesh out of any one of us. Luckily we had the advantage of higher ground and could keep them at bay.
At some point, they got bored at us and ran away, propably already looking for something else to fill their stomaches."