Path of the Vampire forum

The question was a reasonable one. After all, any claim required some sort of evidence or justification, especially ones about how extraordinary a person was. How did Az answer that? Did he say that Harper Rock was a meat grinder? That he had seen dozens, maybe hundreds of people turned over the years. That he’d seen them rise and fall like the crashing of waves against the craggy face of a cliffside? It was mostly intuitive, but not purely. He could see certain traits, and from those traits, he could extrapolate what kind of person Valdimar might be, what he could do in a particular situation. It was, he supposed, akin to seeing the outline of a person through a fog. He couldn’t say for sure exactly who they were, but he could tell from the silhouette what their stature was. Valdimar had quite the stature, both literally and figuratively.

So no, Az’s previous fears, the ones he’d had when he was first offering his blood to the other man were somewhat assuaged. Valdimar wouldn’t be the sort of creature who faded into nothingness. He wouldn’t let the darkness fully consume him until there was nothing left.

It still left the question unanswered.

And then there was the metaphysical. Azraeth was, as much as a vampire could be, tied to magic. There were few who had his grasp on it, his connection to the Shadow Realm, his gift for seeing omens in every day things. His ability to guess future events. And this too was far too difficult to explain. The powers that came with vampirism were meant to be learned over time, not dumped out all at once onto someone’s lap, like a person vomitting the contents of their stomach (or brain, in this case), onto a friend after a particularly hard party.

And still the question went unanswered.

”You are nothing less than what I see in you. And you can’t convince me you believe otherwise.” He decided upon. It was safe, but it was true, and that made it the most earnest answer he could give without going into great depth.

It was time to get some blood though. Az had run through a mountain’s worth of his anima stores during battle and healing his childe. He’d suffered blood loss and injury, and there was hunger gnawing at his core. Time had tempered his reaction to that starving, suffocating, sinking, sick feeling - but it was always going to be there until it was sated. He slipped through the exit, assuming that Valdimar would be at his back. Of course, if something held the Icelander up, Az was more than happy to double back suitably.

”There are numerous ways to get blood. Vampires are ‘out’ now. You’ve probably heard all about us. We’re practically a ******* tourist attraction. There are a number of pretty girls and handsome men who would love to volunteer to put their necks near your fangs. There are blood packs as well.” He continued as he made his way across the street from the harbor area. The smell of the river was there, stronger than ever. Thankfully, this part of town wasn’t terribly populated, which meant their less than decorous appearance, marred by blood and violence, would hopefully go unnoticed. ”We’re going with the latter for now, since we’re generally unequipped to deal with a more polite exchange. Which means we need to track down a black market shop. You can also hunt, though that’s dangerous these days. There are a lot of hunters who want to kill our kind. I’d suggest saving that for another time.”

Another thing to be thankful for was that there was one such shop nearby. Of course, it wasn’t advertised after the normal fashion. There were no bright lights. No signs. A person just had to know what to look for. The call sign of the particular vendor he was seeking out was a tarot card tucked in a door frame. He kept his eyes peeled as he slipped down the street. His jacket was gone and destroyed, so one hand laid aimlessly at his side while the other moved through the air at the opposite side. Commanding the darkness was an art more than a power, a careful gathering of shadows to obscure what was going on, to ensure they weren’t discovered by anyone Az didn’t want them to be discovered by.

”Look for the Hierophant.” He said absently. ”And that man was Flynn. He’s my lover. More than that, really. He’s a Paladin. You’ll certainly run into more of those over time. They have tattoos and usually hate vampires. In fact, they’re wired for it. He overcame that, in part, because he loves me. He works with and amongst vampires, in part, because he loves me. He is my partner in every sense of the word. You’ll be seeing a lot of him over the coming years.” He mentioned, and that was when he caught sight of what he was looking for. His fingers, the ones which had been moving, fell limp against his side as he made his way across the street once more to what looked like a run down townhouse.

He swung the front door open and motioned for Valdimar to enter.

The interior of the shop was exactly as one might have imagined from a townhouse. The entrance itself was a hallway which led into a massive room which normally would have been used as a living or entertainment space. There was the landing for a staircase leading up to the second floor, but it was roped off, and there was an owner in a seat who seemed to be unarmed. It was a miracle nobody had ever made an effort to rob one of the black market shops in the past. Or at least. Az had never heard of it. Though after thinking about it, he doubted anyone would have. He imagined theft was the sort of thing handled behind closed doors in relative silence, with no evidence left behind to indicate a crime had ever been committed. Or perhaps there was just honor amongst the undead.

There were a number of crates scattered around with their lids pulled off, chock full of what seemed to be everything from firearms to ammunition, to improvised gadgets. “You may want to select a firearm and a knife. You don’t have to worry too much about quality. These places have some very good starter pieces, but you will very quickly find that there’s better. It’s just best not to be out in Harper Rock unarmed...for obvious reasons.” He explained, though he didn’t give the wooden boxes filled with weapons much in the way of attention. Valdimar could select the ones he liked and Azraeth was happy to pay for it. Everything in the city of monsters cost something.

Instead, the vampire slipped over to the gentleman who ‘owned’ the establishment. There was a cooler beside him along with a strongbox. The vampire pulled his wallet, slipping his fingers across the cash, before withdrawing it and handing it over. ”A couple of blood packs if you would be so kind, and the rest of this should cover whatever colossus over there nabs. Pleasure doing business with ya.” He said before exchanging the wad of cash he’d pulled for the blood itself. Of course to preserve it, the red fluid was cool inside of its plastic packaging, which took away from the pleasantness of the flavor in Az’s experience. He ended up tossing both bags over to Valdimar. ”Vampires do not travel outside of Harper Rock for practical reasons. It’s a bit of a long story, but basically, vampires have not always existed. There was a period of our history when our kind were completely wiped out by hunters - this time is commonly called the holocaust. However, a few years ago, around 2011, there was a necromancer who was...doing things. I’m not really sure what. Something happened and the Shadow Realm, where we go when we die, ripped open right where the Quarantine Zone is. As long as a vampire dies in the city or in the area close around it, we can find our way out through that rift. Anywhere else in the world - we die and we stay dead.” He explained even as he moved to prop his hip against a closed crate, his arms folding over his chest as he considered.

”Not that travel is not an option if that’s what you want.” He elaborated. The way he spoke openly in front of the ‘owner’ indicated that, at the very least, he was safe to have that variety of conversation in front of. It occured to Az that the two of them probably should have been more concerned about the pressing issue of the relic and the men who had tried to steal it. Perhaps there were others like them who were out there, waiting to pick up the potentially magical artefact. Of course, that also seemed like a matter for Future Az to deal with. The first few hours shared between sire and childer were some of the most important, and he didn’t want those clouded by anything else.

Az noticed, as his attention moved back to his newly turned progeny, that the man was absorbed in some sort of moment, and this brought a smile to the vampire’s lips. There had been a time when Azraeth had been the same way, first experiencing the new sensations which came along with being one of the undead - and there were a myriad of them. A person could encounter every stimulus the world had to offer, and once changed, would need to relive them all to find their pool of knowledge increased by a measure of double. It reminded Azraeth of Plato’s allegory of the cave. If a person were to be chained, facing a wall upon which shadows played - would shadows not be the whole of his world? The allegory made numerous observations, but one of those which stuck out most to the Mystic was that perception and the way one interfaced with the world were powerful in shaping one’s definition of reality. What use was color to a man who was blind?

The smile he wore was there because he had made Valdimar. Oh. He had not contributed to his birth and had not shaped him from clay - he had made him in the sense that the new vampire was a different person to who he had been, and it was Azraeth who had led him down that path. There were some who viewed vampirism as a curse. The mystic saw it as a blessing, because all of the great things in his life had come after death. He had learned to love himself and others, and had grown through his own journey. Being able to revisit those first few moments after transition was invigorating, and it filled the vampire with this desire to know Valdimar, to watch him go through those same trials. He would, of course, be there if that was the desire, but just watching that development as it took place over time was a pleasing prospect.

There was nothing quite like watching someone become themselves. There was a beauty to it.

”You will find that being undead mirrors closely with your experience of being human. It may be better to think of us not as separate things but as two sides of the same coin. One for day, and one for night. We largely all feel the same things, go through the same desire for community, have the same anxieties and fears. Vampires just need blood to survive, and are like a more predatory version of humanity. We are the darkness to their light. There is more in common there than there is different.” He confirmed. And then added in his mind We are the unnatural to their natural. He didn’t say that, of course, because there was already a sea of information his childe had to digest, and not all of it had come from the Mystic.

There were some who went mad from the abundance of new stimulation. Eventually Valdimar would find a way to hone in on the important details and carefully filter out anything external which he didn’t need.

He noticed that Valdimar had not selected any weapons - which was alright. He had a stockpile in a few different places which also sufficed. Actually, it was entirely possible that the vampire had too many weapons. He was just used to **** hitting the fan on repeat, and had learned over time that it was better to be overprepared than under. He could just select some to hand over later, without disrupting that first feeding. It was not messy, though it was eager, which hinted at good things to the Mystic. Perhaps the Icelander would not find himself driven to frenzy at the taste of blood. There had once been a youngling sired by Nikolae with that affliction, and Az had been forced essentially to tackle him out of a public event for fear of causing a commotion. Since then, Azraeth had always been keen to watch new Dragons feasting. It didn’t seem - whatever it had been - was shared by all of them. Not that anyone would have accused the Dragomir of being particularly sane to begin with.

”If ever you find yourself unable to find someone you can drink from, these shops are always a good option, and safe. The last thing you want is to be the target of hunters. Those men from before are just one of the dangers which come with being a vampire - though I suppose again - as you were human when they attacked you, you can see parallels there too.” He then pointed towards a rubbish bin which was tucked beside a crate - lined in a yellow and red biohazard bag, before he began towards the door.