Path of the Vampire forum

“Best regards… comma… new line, new line… Grant Stonehouse.”

The successful businessman scrolled through his freshly written email – a detailed overview of a potentially lucrative venture with a new client who was based across the other side of the city – to check for errors. As ever, there were none. Manoeuvring a small arrow on the screen with the mouse that was conveniently placed just below the keypad of his laptop, the meticulous entrepreneur announced his intentions aloud to the gathered crowd of exactly nobody.

“And send.”

The message whizzed away into the electronic ether, transported, almost magically, via the joyous creation known as wi-fi.

“If only I could instantly teleport myself across the city like an email,” said Stonehouse, gazing up at the ceiling as he reclined on his leather office chair.

His hands cupped the back of his head, fingers entwining with thick locks of dark hair. A mischievous grin began to spread across his face, like a tear in the ground following a gigantic earthquake.

“Oh, hang on,” he continued, “I can do that… because I’m a fuckin’ amazing vampire!”

A smug giggle erupted through his lips, laughter lava that echoed throughout the empty office. Life - if that was the correct word to use - as a vampire was pretty good right now for Grant Stonehouse. His businesses were booming, his powers were growing, and his social life was… entertaining. Vampires were the top dogs, the alpha predators, sitting pretty at the summit of both the food chain and the evolutionary scale.

Some folk, the unenlightened knuckle scrapers of the world such as the flat Earth brigade, or religious extremists, didn’t necessarily believe in evolution, but vampires were “living” proof of the next level up on the ladder. They had evolved to become stronger, faster and more agile than their human counterparts. Vampires were the next logical step in life’s great journey. The religious zealots who believed in creationism had surely got it all wrong. If God had indeed fashioned the most advanced creatures, in theory that being mankind, in the image of himself to rule over the Earth, then perhaps God was actually a vampire, as the undead were now the pinnacle of creation? An ability to come back from the dead, resurrection for want of a better word, and a mantra of drinking his blood to gain eternal life did seem to fit the bill.

Despite its occasional drawbacks, Stonehouse revelled in being a member of the master race. Why be a slave when you could rule? The top dog always gets the bone.

While his laptop was open, Stonehouse took the opportunity to log into CrowNet, a secretive site than acted like a cross between the vampiric equivalent of Facebook and the BBC news. The pages were awash with islands of vital information, surrounded by a sea of outrageous views and propaganda. Sorting the wheat from the chaff often required the patience of a saint, but there was usually a nugget of pure gold buried amongst the sand for those in possession of a keen eye.

“Oh, here we go again!” exclaimed Stonehouse. “The Administrator is back!”

The Englishman spoke as if he were a famous author, addressing an audience of dedicated fans at a book signing event while reciting the opening lines from his latest bestselling novel. For months now, Stonehouse had dismissed The Administrator as nothing more than Harper Rock’s version of the Wizard of Oz, hiding behind the shroud of a computer screen, attempting to resemble some kind of guru, the font of all knowledge. Nobody really knew who the mysterious figure actually was, but he would sporadically post so-called “vital” information, often in an inflammatory, self-righteous manner, to grab the attention of the vampire community.

Perhaps The Administrator was a government agent, attempting to compile a dossier of information, or maybe he was just some pesky internet whizz-kid who got his kicks from masquerading as the vampire equivalent of the head of “Anonymous”, the anti-establishment organization famed for their use of Guy Fawkes masks made popular in the movie V for Vendetta? The somewhat irritating computer commando could, of course, be a genuine ally of the vampire world. A lot of what he’d previously blurted onto the pages of CrowNet had actually come to pass, which is what truly frustrated Stonehouse. Although the businessman wanted to disregard the wannabe countercultural Che Guevara as a fraud, there was always something nagging at the back of his mind, a tiny thought that The Administrator was genuinely telling the truth.

The latest conspiracy theory being dished out by The Administrator involved, not the first time, the Hebigumo Foundation. Apparently, the altruistic corporation was in the business of developing cutting-edge technologies that were aimed to improve the quality of human life, but Stonehouse knew that this cover story was a complete sham. The Hebigumo Foundation was run by the Jorogumo, a group of shapeshifting Sirens. It was Harper Rock’s version of the Hawkins National Laboratory from Stranger Things, a hive for all kinds of shady experimentation and dodgy dealing. Stonehouse knew this to be true because he’d thoroughly investigated the corporation, having gone toe to toe with a small army of Sirens in the depth of some kind of a recently excavated tunnel system. This mini conflict was the direct result of an earlier announcement from The Administrator.

Having abandoned their previous excavation site in the Swansdale region of town, the scene of Stonehouse’s previous underground escapade, the Sirens had seemingly been digging elsewhere. The fact that they filled in the original maze of tunnels almost as quickly as they’d been excavated would lead anyone with a suspicious disposition to wonder what the hell they were trying to hide, but it was the latest discovery that ought to really set the alarm bells ringing. The fruit of their manic mining mission was the unearthing of an ancient subterranean building called the Labyrinth, which, according to the almighty Administrator, was potentially a gateway for the Sirens to unlock what they desperately desired: the key to damaging the Rift.

Stonehouse stared at the computer screen, digesting the information presented by The Administrator, and absorbing the responses offered by those trolling his statement. How many of those responding had actually been face to face with the insane Siren that Stonehouse and a couple of his colleagues, Levi and Pru, had captured deep underground in the foreboding darkness? How many of them had witnessed his confession, been privy to his secrets as they spilled out through his trembling lips?

Leaning back in his chair, spinning it from left to right, then back again repeatedly like a metronome, the intelligent businessman begin to juggle various slices of information that he’d obtained over the last year or two, slotting the pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle. There always seemed to be a common thread running through The Administrator’s posts, along with a rich vein of problems that couldn’t simply be labelled as coincidental. The Sirens were definitely up to no good, pulling more and more strings in an attempt to take control of Harper Rock, to become the puppet masters.

Firstly for Stonehouse, there had been the strange incident involving Sirens and their unnerving ability to charm a reasonable number of bloodsuckers. On this particular occasion, the outcome was nothing more than a thoroughly enjoyable amorous encounter with an equally “liberated” vampire, but that sense of being out of control, manipulated, sat incredibly uneasily with Stonehouse. Granted, he was much weaker back then, unable to resist the mental attack that lured him onto the Siren’s lustful rocks, but there were currently plenty of other young fledglings around the city who were potentially at risk. A similar assault on the senses could cause chaos, particular with the uneasy peace that existed between vampires and humans. The Sirens would only need to bewitch a handful of vulnerable vampires to manufacture a major incident. The pendulum of peace could easily swing towards all out conflict.

Next came the aforementioned soirée deep beneath the foundations of Harper Rock, when it became clear that the Siren-controlled Hebigumo Foundation was searching for something huge, something powerful, buried within the rock and soil. It appeared that they had been unsuccessful on that particular occasion, but what about now, what about the Labyrinth? Were they on the verge of harnessing whatever power lay hidden in the murky underworld? The way that undead monsters were spawning within the dank corridors of both the abandoned first dig and the freshly revealed Labyrinth filled Stonehouse with an unsettling feeling of impending trouble.

Stonehouse scratched his head, formulating a plan. Did the Wendigos in the forest also have something to do with this? Again, it was his old friend, The Administrator, who had brought the potential Wendigo threat to the attention of the vampire community. They had only resurfaced relatively recently, at a time roughly coinciding with the increased level of activity of the Hebigumo Foundation. Sirens like the Jorogumo and the Encantado were demifae, as were the Wendigo. Was this a strange coincidence, or something more sinister? Stonehouse didn’t know if there was a definitive connection between any of these events; perhaps he was barking up the wrong tree, but he needed to find out.

Stonehouse leant across his solid oak desk, and grabbed his phone. He’d heard nothing from Levi, the smartly dressed businessman of Italian decent, in months, but Pru, the feisty redhead, had been spotted mowing down beasties on more than one occasion. It was time to make a quick call, time to get Pru’s opinion. The thoughts of others would surely follow.

The methodical businessman continued to mull over the situation as his brushed aluminium phone started to dial out. If the Sirens were able to damage the Rift, perhaps even destroy it, wouldn’t that weaken the vampire race, leaving all of them exposed and vulnerable? The whole dynamic of the city could change in a flash. The Sirens would able to breed with their human minions, to take their own evolutionary process on to the next stage due to weakened opposition. It was survival of the fittest, not survival of the weakest. Possibly, eventually, could they take over control of Harper Rock? Vampires would no longer be the top dogs, no longer be the ones holding the bone.

Stonehouse’s nimble fingers had barely finished clicking on the phone screen when his call was swiftly answered by Pru. The redhead wasted no time in getting straight to the point, no beating around the bush with small talk about the weather or the latest TV show. Stonehouse liked her directness, her no nonsense attitude. The measured businessman had seen the feisty female in action against the Sirens, and was not at all surprised that Pru’s telephone manner matched her “shoot them in the face, then in the chest to make sure” approach.

It was crystal clear from the way Pru spoke that her intentions were to give the Sirens another damn fine kicking. The deadly hotshot wanted to pick up where she had left off just over a year ago. There was definitely unfinished business that required immediate attention, and by the sound of the rummaging around that Stonehouse’s keen ears could hear in the background, Pru was preparing for a violent vacation.

“I take it you’re not packing your beach towel, bikini and flip-flops for this trip?” asked Stonehouse. “More of a machine-gun kind of holiday?”

The pair, along with their colleague, Levi, had encountered what was effectively a small army the last time they had gone toe to toe the Sirens, a well-armed security force dedicated to protecting whatever secretive plot was being hatched deep underground. The three vampiric musketeers had gatecrashed the party, but there was no doubt in Stonehouse’s mind that the Labyrinth would be afforded a similar, if not even greater level of protection. Whatever the Sirens were doing, whatever they had discovered, was most certainly of grave importance to them. They weren’t simply going to vacate the premises without a fight.

“I’m definitely up for a little road trip,” added Stonehouse. “I’ve always been a fan of exploring ancient ruins. This… Labyrinth sounds like something from Rome or Athens.”

The exact nature of what the Labyrinth really was remained unknown, but The Administrator was adamant that it was bad news all round for vampires. At the very least Stonehouse needed to quench his own curiosity about the mysterious subterranean complex, and to try and decipher the mystical ruin’s origin. It was potentially a monumental discovery, and Stonehouse needed to be in on the act.

“And just for the recorded,” continued Stonehouse, “I’m totally on board with keeping our asses alive. These Sirens are nasty buggers, and they are hatching up some kind of plan to take over, I’m sure of it.”

Stonehouse paused, acutely aware of the gravity of what he was about to say next.

“In fact, I’d even go as far as saying that any vampires who side with the Sirens are committing some kind of treason against their own kind, like that vampire from history, Cobb.”

Perhaps it was too bold, too dramatic a statement, but if The Administrator was genuinely telling the truth, and the Sirens wanted to damage, possibly close the Rift in the Fade, then the whole of the vampire population would become vulnerable. In Stonehouse’s opinion, any bloodsuckers supporting the Sirens and their sinister plot would be betraying their own brethren. Granted, there were plenty of vampires with huge axes to grind, but would they really risk selling out their entire race for a slice of personal payback pie? How much was thirty pieces of silver worth nowadays?

“Anyway,” concluded Stonehouse, “I’m just rambling. Let’s meet up near that old abandoned mansion. We’ll discuss things in more detail. Oh, and try and keep a low profile. After what happened recently in that government facility, the place will probably be crawling with agents, soldiers, the press, goodness knows who else.”

The facility in question, CFB Longslade, located to the east of Harper Rock, was the scene of what was being dubbed a terrorist attack. The rumours claimed that a “cure” for vampirism had been discovered, resulting in rival factions attempting to either protect or destroy this potent potion. At the time, Stonehouse’s initial reaction was to think that the Sirens we mixed up in the carnage. What better way to eliminate your biggest rivals than to “cure” them of their powers? Strangely enough, The Administrator had seemingly been silent on this matter. Curious.

Whatever the truth was behind the chaotic episode, it had left human-vampire relations balanced on a knife-edge. Stonehouse and Pru would need to tread carefully. Charging in headlong like a pair of gun-toting angry rhinos was not necessarily the best plan of action.

The city was a warzone waiting to happen.

A lot of people were waiting for it, some kind of major battle to break out between the humans and the vampires, especially with tensions having risen after Longslade. However, Azraeth didn’t suspect it was going to be a war between light and darkness. No, there was a battle brewing in the Labyrinth, and he suspected it would be sooner rather than later when someone threw the first punch. Supporters of the Sirens. Detractors of the Sirens. And Vampires were split on the topic. Longslade had been easier in that way. Save for a few outliers, the majority had seemingly been in favor of destroying the cure. But now? Now things were different, and even though nobody was saying it, he could already sense that battle lines were going to be drawn. How long until one side decided that the other needed to be handled? Would the Sirens get involved in putting down vampires who didn’t side with them? And the Paladins - they were probably less of a wildcard than most people assumed. The Rift growing smaller meant that vampires were more easily controlled and managed. If that door could slam shut; it meant that vampires could lose the very true immortality which they had always clung to as their trump card.

The issue was deeper than that though. Az had been questioning Charpentier about life before the Holocaust, and it seemed that ancient vampires had developed their powers more slowly. Was it the fault of the Rift that vampires grew in strength more quickly than their historic predecessors? Was it proximity to Harper Rock? More unanswered questions. More vague ‘what ifs’. More ‘maybe it will happens’. He was the sort of man who loved to plan for the future, but he also didn’t believe in ignoring clear and present danger. Such as the very negative relations between humans and vampires. The idea of taking part in crippling his own kind when the wolves were at the proverbial door just didn’t appeal to him. Maybe in a year or a decade or a century that would change. Maybe there was a way to make the Rift stable without making it shrink.

That was the problem with siding with the Sirens or the Administrator. Giving up whatever it was in the Labyrinth to either side meant handing over the reigns to someone else. And Az was many things, but he was not the sort of person who let anyone craft his destiny for him.

He wasn’t about to get caught up in being on one of two sides. Not if it meant missing the trees for the forest. There was a lot at play, and he suspected more than one smokescreen. Occam’s Razor: Sirens wanted the possibly mystical thing in the Labyrinth. The Administrator wanted the same thing. Ergo, regardless of what it did, or could do, or how things might turn out in the long run, the best move was to try and get what they were going after.

The problem was, Az had absolutely no idea where to start. He and Flynn had briefly discussed the topic right as information was being posted, before the slew of messages had sprung up trying to get vampires to choose one course over another. They had decided in bed (of all places), that they were going to fight against the Sirens. Of course. Az was pretty sure that his boyfriend was putting a lot of faith in the vampire, that Azraeth was making the right call. Yet another layer of vested interest in the Mystic making sure he didn’t **** up. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait or wonder long, because it seemed Prudence (courtesy of the Voodoo Dragon CrowNet), was looking for people to work with her. He had picked up from some of her posts on the public CrowNet that she might know something he didn’t. He wasn’t sure if she’d just been ******* with people or if she actually had some kind of insider information, but he had known her for long enough (wearing a few different faces), that he more than trusted her not to lead him astray.

Thus, after seeing her ‘call to arms’, he decided it was time to put on some *** kicking clothes. So after stealing some from Flynn’s closet, he decided it was time to send a few texts. The first was to Lea.

To The Sis : Going to be gone for at least the night. Headed into the Labyrinth most likely. Going to be dragging Flynn along with me. If **** goes south, I’ll teleport him to your place. If you don’t hear from us by tomorrow, chances are we both died. Ttylih. <3

Then one to Prudence.

To Big Red : Heyyyy. Getting ready to murder some Sirens. Let me know what’s up! Waiting on your call.

Yeah. Okay so it wasn't really a plan, but that wasn't the point. There would be time to architect some strategies - but he needed to get the ball rolling on his end or chances were he would end up getting cut out of the process altogether. Besides. How many times had he and Prudence walked into a shitty situation together? There were a handful of people Azraeth trusted to have his back at all times. The first on the list was Nikolae, but he had once told Pru she was family, and that certainly had never changed.

The last text was to Flynn, who was honestly probably just in the other room eating Night Breakfast - which consisted of a flowery tea and fresh biscuits,
homemade butter, and thick cut bacon.

To PalaDamnHeFine : Soooo I contacted Pru. Waiting on her to get back to me with some deets. Now before I come and crawl all over you...why exactly is there a pile of thermal blankets in the corner?

He heard Flynn speaking, and his expression set in absolute defiance. Not that his features twisted in any way that the Paladin could appreciate, given the wall between them. His jaw clenched, teeth clinking together, his eyes cutting towards the open door from where he leaned against the wall. He had been about to utter a loud ‘no!’ when he realized that would totally defeat the purpose. And so he hastily typed out another text to the man.

To PalaDamnHeFine : Come here and make me!

He grinned and hit send. Of course that was the moment a new notification popped up on his phone. A second later, and his gaze was scanning over the message from Prudence. That was one of the things he really appreciated about her. She was the sort of person who, when she decided it was time to do something - she just did it. In the time Azraeth had known her, he’d never known her to not accomplish whatever goal she set out to achieve, because she tended to attack the problems in front of her like a hungry dog chasing a man made out of steaks. Which was to say that she had a great deal of focus, which the Mystic appreciated, because he had a tendency to get distracted by small, seemingly inconsequential details.

To Big Red : Gotcha. Be there in twenty.

It was brief, but Az had to prepare. This involved flinging the chest at the base of his bed open so he could lean into it to begin pulling out weapons. “You want me to do WHAT?!” Wait. ****. That had been out loud. Damn his tricky boyfriend! He scowled back towards the door, as he glanced over his shoulder. Of course. Flynn totally again, could not see the expression. He reached into the chest and pulled out an armload of rifles and what looked like swords in their scabbards. He dropped all of them onto the bed, the sheet and blankets shoved up towards the pillows. He then went to find a duffel bag, which he pulled out of the closet, from a shelving unit above the clothes themselves. “Just so we are both aware; there is a tantrum brewing deep inside, the likes of which will shake the foundations of this city. Or at least this building. Or at least you.” He commented finally as he opened up the duffel bag. Only to see that it was filled with what looked like hundreds of rotting ears.

Oh. That’s where he’d put the zombie ears.

He carefully upended the ritual ingredients and made a note to himself to package them by fives, and then store them in one of his lockboxes. For the moment, they existed on the floor of his apartment. He then began to load ammunition and guns into the bag, because he figured if they were going to be descending into some sort of war-like event, it was going to pay to be prepared. And that was right around the time Flynn wandered into the bedroom. He felt fingers move against his arm, and he couldn’t help but track the progress of the paladin towards the closet. “We need to be there in…” He glanced down to his phone screen. “About fifteen minutes. No rush though. I can teleport us there.” He offered even as he pulled away from what he was doing so he could slip up behind his lover. His arms curled around a middle before Flynn could properly drag his clothing on. Really it was just a brief affection.

He used the moment to nudge his lips against the patch of flesh immediately behind one of the other man’s ears. “I know it’s dangerous. And I know what we’re doing is totally uncertain. But that’s no different than anyone else. Nobody knows how this is going to turn out.” He whispered, only to press another kiss against flesh before pulling away to finish packing up the bag. “I have to believe because we’re doing this for the right reasons, we’ll find a way to make it work. That’s all life is. Choice and intentions.” He glanced back towards his lover as metal and gunpowder descended into the sack. There was this lie that said people were most attractive when they were losing their clothing. For Az, that wasn’t true. He found the process of getting dressed equally appealing in some ways. Especially when Flynn was wearing that outfit.

See. Easily distracted.

“Twenty minutes? It sounds like somebody wants to get this party started.”

Stonehouse smirked, his lips curing upwards as if they were trying to climb up the phone that was planted against his right ear. It was clear that Pru already had her favourite ***-kicking boots snuggly wrapped around her feet, and that she was eager to dish out some pain. The Sirens had better be wearing some extra tough padding around their backsides!

“Any additional party guests would be welcomed with open arms. Just make sure that they know to bring plenty of… booze!”

As confident as Stonehouse was in his own ability, and indeed that of the deadly redhead, there was always strength in numbers. The Sirens could be tough cookies, and more firepower to bring them down would never go amiss. Two guns are better than one, but four or five guns is a winning combination.

“I may be a little longer meeting up with you, not much longer though. I just want to grab a few bits and pieces, and make a few… enquiries. Catch you soon.”

The phone call came to its natural end, with a basic plan of stopping the Sirens already taking shape. A rendezvous had been arranged, so the wheels were rumbling into motion.

Stonehouse gathered a few items then quickly returned his attention to the softly glowing screen of his laptop. Jumping headlong into the vast ocean that was Google, the inquisitive businessman got to work hunting down the names of potential contacts within the Hebigumo Foundation: press officers, members of the public relations team, people who could potentially be approached and used as sources of information. There was more than one way to skin a cat, and rather than simply ploughing straight into the Labyrinth, all guns blazing like a squadron of kamikaze fighter planes, perhaps a more subtle approach would also be helpful.

The Hebigumo Foundation had been releasing statements to the press about their wonderful discovery, claiming that everything was been done in the name of research. Obviously, this was yet another Siren smokescreen to mask what was truly going on in the ancient ruin, a ploy to get the human population on their side. However, perhaps this public face of the corporation could be exploited, manipulated in order to uncover vital information?

Stonehouse located a few possible contacts, names of staff members with fancy titles who were potentially approachable. He quickly fired off several emails requesting meetings to discuss the on-going situation, citing the Foundation’s work in the field of neurotherapy as an area of shared interest. The entrepreneur was a psychology graduate, and some of his business ventures touched on the area of advanced psychological treatment techniques. It was a long shot, but perhaps he could use his background as a form of leverage to gain an audience with someone within the corporation.

Shutting down his computer, the businessman stretched his arms, clicking the joints of his fingers. If just one of the emails received a response, then it may lead to another way in to the secretive Hebigumo Foundation, a backdoor that bypassed the big guns that undoubtedly were guarded the main entrance.

Using the power of his tome, Stonehouse vanished from his office, returning home in order to pack a kitbag, and get ready for the next stage of the proceedings.