Path of the Vampire forum

OOC wrote:The following is a digital copy of Tierney's journal kept in an encrypted file on her laptop. There may also be photos or other sort of things regarding her development kept in one place. None of this may be used without my permission, thank you!

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Time. It's the easiest thing to control in one's life when it comes to business. Don't like how it's going, speed up your progress by getting help. Going too fast? Take a break. I notice that some always wish to slow down their aging, they buy all of the herbs and potions regardless of the price. I could simply sell someone a collection of dirt - I won't, because mother would kill me in my sleep if I tried, but there isn't much that can be done about a wrinkle or two without injecting botox into one's face. I watch the timeless ones that pass in front of my windows, though, the vampires. Fangers, as some call them - a ridiculous term, really.

I watch the papers, the online forums. Some go on about religion being their cause, but for all that is known, it could be a false lead. Vampires posing as humans, trying to rile up each side. It works on some level. You can see where people become more and more uneasy in the streets when the timeless ones pass around. I see guests in the hotel across the street shift and look behind them into the shadows. Mother sells them garlic necklaces, tablets to put into their meals. Hoaxes, but other than a select few, they won't remember being bitten.

It's a pleasant sensation. One that resonates through ones body, an addicting sensation. Until you remember the tingle, that glimpse of hunger before their fangs pierce into the flesh. Mother claims that the memories fade. I see her scarred arms that she tries to hide with makeup and long sleeves. She's been out again. There's a consciousness act to going out that she doesn't realize, how bleeding for the vermin isn't something that should happen. She heals herself before father sees it. He would call her a blood whore, even if they are happily together. Vampires and sorcerers, blood thieves, paladin. None of us mix.

Don't feed into their cause, Tierney.

He urges me this every evening as I count down the till, as I wipe down the countertop where different sorts of dust have collected all day. I keep myself busy as he hums old rhymes from his home country to himself. Soothing melodies that almost allow one to believe that everything will be okay, that the dark times will not return. When the shop closes, we go out to the forest near the river. A clearing where the fae cannot be seen, but eyes are felt on my back as I practice with my firearm.

Keep a steady shot, don't miss. It could cost you.

Every night. Any night. It doesn't matter if there's rain, fog or sleet. He wants me prepared, he wants me to learn to shoot with gloves on. We train in martial arts, and in my down time, I practice with my scripts. Hacking, running programs. I look after my garden. I listen to them talk about the chance that our ancestors wrote about the timeless ones in the past. They think I don't pay any mind to them when I sit at the table, doing my school work and have headphones in, but its often when my headphones are in that they choose to speak freely. That she tries to tell him that I'm not ready, that I need to continue on in my studies.

That I'm just a girl, not meant to be a fighter.

She'll either fight to survive, or die a coward.[/font]

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There's a war coming.

I don't understand what he means, a war. I know the vampires are a problem, I find them to be nothing but useless amounts of space, but the trouble on the horizon is on a grander scale if that's the case. The terrorist attack caused one of my cousins to land himself in the hospital. A Paladin soldier. I went to visit him earlier this evening, disappointed to see him laying there. A tube was down his throat, his breathing controlled by a machine.

Death would be a more merciful state.

He doesn't look like himself. Scars litter his body, the discoloration evident from the beatings that one of the undead gave him. They tell my aunt that he was lucky to survive his ordeal, that they could have done worse, but I disagree. He lays there day after day. Even my healing abilities cannot bring him out of his state, a feat my father found to be aggravating.

Mother is beginning to wither away with her habit. I don't understand her addiction. Father doesn't seem to notice, he's developing paranoid delusions. Every evening, I find him asleep on the couch. His rifle sits within reach, loaded and ready as if he expects many of them to burst through the front door. He knows only certain types have the ability, it was in the journal that he gave me. The one that has been passed down through the generations.

Genocide is something I feel that will happen again. No one learns from their mistakes centuries before, surely. It is all a constant cycle, but the only thing that changes is this endless circle of time. Yes, technology advances, yet they never seem to make significant differences. If that were the case, vampires would be entirely extinct. We could live our lives without fear for anything other than humans. It isn't that they are safe, either. I know humans are as dangerous as vampires, occasionally worse.[/font]

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I've received an email from a man named Ephraim. I had to ask Sawyer who he was and learned what I needed to about him, really. He doesn't seem to be one who has much room for nonsense, a good thing, but at the same time, it seems to be more room for tension between all. I do not know what I'll be able to tell my parents to leave work to attend. Father has been asking for me to figure out if there was anything that we could put into our blood streams to create a potential illness to these creatures.[/font]

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There is a lot of tension regarding those who are in this resistence, different personalities and ideas clashing into a melting pot. I don't know who I can trust, who to believe actually sit in the same state of mind. To suggest children be placed in harms way was an interesting ploy to see how far they were willing to go and I was not surprised. I do think that some may have jumped to conclusions, however, I do believe that if someone believes it's a risk they're unwilling to even consider, then they should not be in Harper Rock antagonizing these creatures.

It would be without a doubt that they go after the weak, the innocent, the vunerable if they cannot get at their attackers. The military, crime lords, they have all done it in the past and these creatures are all formerly human. I do not see the point in getting things in a twist at a suggestion - even a false one. Jumping to conclusions will do no one any good, especially when in regards to someone's nature. Personally, I find that this will be a bad idea in the long run. Humans do not react with reason when frightened. Some bend their will and might fall into line with the stronger creatures, others will react with violence and may potentially turn on each other.

Death comes to everyone, even to those who cheat it.

Nature, in the long run, will win.

I have no doubt of that.

It's what falls between it all that really matters.[/font]

OOC wrote:The following post is a page that has tucked inside an old fashioned leather bound journal that Tierney carries around in a black bag on her person. It reflects various thoughts that Tierney has through her day.

Ideas
Church service
Halloween party
Public center
Recordings
News clippings
Personal attacks

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There’s a different chill that has arrived with the season of winter. As I sit on my father’s boat, I can see the life slowly coming to an end as the icy blanket sits on the greenery. The silence that always follows is deafening, muffling all sources of insects chirping and the constant song that birds play. As I walk through the forest, the chattering of animals cease more and more. I can feel it in the air, the tension that can be cut with a knife caused by the war brewing on the horizon.

They say an animal will fall silent upon threat of a predator’s approach. I’ve seen it when out with father and the other men, but it makes me wonder, is it their threat, or the threat of what our home has to deal with? The vampire nuisance. As our days grow shorter, the undead find themselves allowed to come out earlier and earlier. Today, sunset falls just short of five o’clock. Is it a big deal for those whom can defend themselves? No. Even when unarmed, some of us are capable of defending ourselves.

I think of the blanket of cold to be a comparison to death, inevitable to anyone and everyone. Even the undead ones. They are the ice, unyielding and unforgiving in a Canadian winter. Humans are the flora and fauna, falling into a cycle where they wither at lack of proper vitamins and exposure to the sun, and the sun are those who fight in this war. We are strong enough to make notice, but at times, there is not enough of us to make significant impact. I heal more than I fight.

“If you are not careful, you will die.”

I cannot remember the times father has spoken those words to me. I see him frown on the days I need to stop early in training to attend meetings for this war against the races. He disapproves of their tactics, of the plans that have been made. He believes it will not do anyone well, lying to the already corrupt media. Father believes that even news sources that we have access to are not to be taken seriously as it is just a cry for attention. He claims that those who truly care for a cause will fight until the end without media.

”Panic is not the way.”

I think of this often as I sit by my window, as I watch the snow threaten the life of my garden. Is he correct? Is the decision we’ve made fated to fail? Genocide is another mention that I’ve heard the elders in my family discussing, my grandparents and the few of their friends surrounding the old book wrapped in leather where old secrets remain. Another one that they hold, the leather worn and the pages yellow, some hard to read containing the memories of the deceased warriors. The memories of those who fought against these creatures before.

The idea that we all may require an army to defeat these monsters is one that my mind can’t be wrapped around. Is it more a physical fight, or one that withholds mind over matter? Strategies in fights are more important than simply sitting around, anyhow. I think more of the terms of strength in unique circumstances. Even the strongest of avalanches will come to a stop if one can counter the path that it has taken with a controlled blast.

So, in truth, what can become our controlled blast? Sealing off their abilities? If so, how is it we can do it?I can sense my own power flowing through my body, coming from the path of nature, the way that it seems to be growing stronger day after day. Searching for certain plants has become second nature, much to my mother’s pride.[/font]

OOC wrote:The following journal post has mention of drugging and parental abuse. Please do not read if you are sensitive to this material.

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I cannot remember the last time that I took the time aside for myself to write. November of 2017, that is the last journal entry that I have listed and it seems so much further away than nearly three years. Does it ever change, the awareness of death? The disappointment that arises with every shovel full of dirt. The clicking of the way metal connects with stone, over and over again. The funeral lasted an hour. The mother sobbed aimlessly before launching herself at my father, blaming him for introducing her son to the monsters within the city. She didn’t know what her other son was made to become a paladin, that her husband had been part of my father’s inner circle for years, that his father introduced her sons into their faction.

She called me a witch.

Normally, Sawyer used the word as an affection.

I had never considered the negative connotation of being a sorceress until now. I suppose she heard that he had me come to the scene. Perhaps, she saw me leaving the hospital. I can still feel the blood that caked my hands that night as I focused to heal him, heal a wound that couldn’t be healed. I wasn’t expecting the moment when my father made the decision to drive the sword through the man’s heart. As far as he was concerned, he had already been turned after being fed on - it didn’t matter that there hadn’t been blood exchanged. It seemed he still believed the rumors that all would be turned after being fed upon. I still fail to understand why it startled me. His callousness is no stranger to those raised in his household. Perhaps he felt I wasn’t repairing his life force, that the chi manipulation wouldn’t help in the least.

There was no warning about the man turning.

It cannot be missed.

The subtle taste of bile rising to the back of my throat, the incoherent and almost electrical pull of my nerves tracing down my spine until reaching the tunes etched into my flesh.

A built in alarm system.

None of it had been going off.

Vaguely, I recall the synthetic promises of love and care, mixed with the violent impatience that father whispered for selfish gain. I realize that I feel numb, no longer paralyzed in fear of retribution of failure to be the perfect daughter. I can still smell the menthol washing over me, the need to steady my hands as I fell out of a drug induced sleep. Although the bruises have faded over time, the slightest covering over my face reminds me of the pressure over my lips and nose. I can still taste the sweet chemical aftertaste that lingered as I tried to get free.

The ink has healed, but the damaged relationship lingers with every paladin power used - an illicit trade from mentor to student to shatter her trust. I became stronger at the cost of his betrayal.

As I listen to the sounds of frustrated growls from Sawyer, to the bored sighs from Talia and the laughter from Marnie above me, echoing off the walls of the abandoned stronghold, I know I received the better end of the bargain. As I write this, my barefoot glides effortlessly along the surface where a watery graveyard sits below. Where my trust fades from my father’s cruelty, the bonds I create with the collective of the Steel Order grow. Humans are uncertain of us. Vampires hate us as we hate them. Neither are inherently evil, nor are they inherently good - both are diseases in their own way.

Where do I go from here?[/font]