Path of the Vampire forum

It was, for all intents and purposes, a regular night in the lair of the undead. Well, that’s what Arun liked to call it – the abandoned sewer system that was inhabited by a gang of vampires and necromancers, otherwise supernatural magical beings that hoped to learn from. Even if just by observation. The halls and nooks had become home to the young sorcerer, who had yet to fully learn his own potential. Whatever power he was capable of came in fits and starts, his move to Harper Rock not yielding as many positive results as he had hoped. Vasile, though enjoying his nights playing gigs across the different pubs of the city, was growing bored. The two of them were so accustomed to moving around, if they stayed in one place too long...

Well, Arun had told his brother that, just this once, they might have to part ways. Arun knew that this city was holding something back and he needed to find it, whatever it was. He needed to know what magic ran through his blood, and he needed to know to what degree he could use it. Vasile always grumbled when it reached this point of the conversation – he was loathe to part from his family, so he would have to make do with the line of men and women he was constantly bringing home.

Arun was rarely home to have to deal with the noise; he was either at work at the observatory, which was mostly night time hours, or he was out exploring the underbelly of the city. He quite often found himself in the abandoned sewers, having not yet gathered the courage to approach the not-humans who made it their home. On this particular night he was close. In his mind, he knew he was going to do it. Tonight was going to be the night.

Armed with barely anything, the young sorcerer prepared to clear his throat while standing behind one of the Disciples. When he did clear his throat he wondered at how it had echoed, how loud the sound actually was – until he realised that his grunt had coincided with the discharge of a gun. The Disciple moved like the wind. Perhaps he had seen his attacker and had the chance to move out of the way before he was shot. Arun, not wanting to get in the middle of a fight that was not his own, went to take a step backwards, to slip around the corner and out of the way.

His back slammed against a wall and he counted his lucky stars – for half a second. A single glance down revealed that there was something wrong. Something was very, very wrong – and it was confirmed by the brilliant, vibrant, sharp, all consuming pain that had him sliding down the wall and pressing his hands to his groin.

Except he didn’t know where he had been shot. He didn’t know where the blood was coming from. There was so much blood! And the pain spread through his whole body making it impossible to target.

“****,” he muttered, the blood draining from his face.

“****,” he gasped, quite certain an artery had been split open. Didn’t that mean he could die in minutes?!

“...help,” he squeaked. Would anyone down here even care to help?

“Oh Jesus...” he groaned. Arun wasn’t a religious man. He believed in science. Science told him that a severed femoral artery was fatal. But lord, did he pray now.

Ainsley had stayed longer than she intended to, or any other time before. Once a week (occasionally twice), after work, Ainsley rode the train to Cherrydale after purchasing an arrangement of flowers, and visited the grave of her son. His grave was never difficult to find, not that the woman believed she would ever forget where his final resting place was. However, like a dozen, perhaps a few more, or less, there was a fat baby cherub on the headstone that had been purchased for him. One that was designed specifically for the death of a child, she had been told from the funeral home when the woman had to endure the second most difficult circumstance in her life. The first being the death of her infant.

“I have something else for you tonight.” Ainsley told him, sitting cross legged to the side of his headstone. “I found it while in your room.” She concluded, before opening her purse and pulling out an infant toy she bought for him. It was either the second or the third. The first one, Ainsley could not part with yet, even if it had been designated for Gabriel. “It crinkles, rattles and squeaks on some of the shapes.” Ainsley propped it in front of his headstone, then sighed. “It's still hard some days. Most days.” Ainsley confessed to the gravestone, before the woman leaned forward and pressed her lips to the carefully designed stone. “I have to go, or you're uncle will worry.” She pulled out her phone from her purse, then shook her head. It was way later than Ainsley expected to be here-but time almost seemed to stop for her while she was with Gabriel. “See you next week, my sweet angel.” She stood, gently wrapped her fingers around the outward protrusion of the design on the headstone, then slowly let go as Ainsley walked away.

She never took the train back after her visits to Gabriel. Ainsley liked the time after to be quiet as she thought about her visits and all the things she had meant to tell him, but didn't. It would be prioritized into what she would tell him the next time Ainsley visited his grave, as the most important, or urgent. Her path was always the same, heading south towards Thornside park, where Ainsley would cut across the park to save time and walking, before moving south bound from there. Ainsley had been about halfway through the park, when she caught sight of someone who just about 'disappeared' into thin air. She blinked once, then twice, and deviated from her usual path to see if what she saw was real, or if it had been a figment of her imagination.

Ainsley had never noticed a small entrance into...something else. She looked around in both directions around her, then pulled it open. She wasn't sure what to expect, but she saw walls that never seemed to end. “H-hello?” She called quietly, but her voice echoed further than the woman anticipated. She stepped into what seemed like....sewers at some point. Maybe when the city was smaller and newer? She heard a gun shot, then another, followed by another, and each one had the woman jumping from surprise. Ainsley almost turned around and ran, but then she heard something.

A couple of words, none of which actually meant anything, or stuck out to her. But the last word she heard, before Ainsley acted had. 'Help.' She felt obligated to do just that. She couldn't let someone die in this place-they would never find him. “Coming!” Ainsley said, before slapping a hand over her mouth. What a stupid thing to do, she nagged at herself, while still running. She ran for what felt like...ever. It probably wasn't more than a minute at most, but when someone's life might be on the line, ever second seemed longer as more passed by. “OH!” She gasped as her hand found her mouth again.

Who did this to him? What was this place? Was the person still here? All questions that had ran through her mind-but again, Ainsley had to help him, especially now that she saw how bad things were. “I'm here to help.” She said, while the dark haired woman pulled off her coat, after tossing her pirse to the ground next to him. “Keep your hand there. You did the right thing.” She actually didn't know, but Ainsley had seen enough shows of all sorts that did the same thing. Apply pressure to the wound. “What's your name?” She smiled to him, as Ainsley pulled at the sleeves of her coat, stretching them far away from the other. “I'm Ainsley. I have to tie this around your leg. Keep the pressure on your injury no matter what. I'll try to not move your leg as I do that.” She looked him in the eyes, as Ainsley draped the coat over his leg, grabbed her cellphone from her purse and pressed the digits she would need for the emergency transport with one hand, as the other covered his hand and helped him keep pressure on the bullet wound. “May I do that?” She asked, wanting to make sure he wouldn't freak out in any aspect as Ainsley tried to save his life.