It's a little minecraft SMP we have running right now, we're currently on hiatus/break to get the map for campaign 2 set up (that and letting everyone finish their finals)
Originally we had it titled Murder SMP, but have since done some rebranding to now have it titled Vampiric Aftermath Multi-player (Survival) aka V.A.M.P. to explore the ideas of, what if Vampires lived and existed in not only this time period, but after this event.
Campaign one was an offshoot from Canon VSMP being set between Scott's slumber and Owen's existence. One of our members will at somepoint be releasing their entire PoV as a movie rather than in episodes.
Campaign 2 however will be taking place during the Civil War, everyone's fleeing the draft, everyone's seeking shelter, everyone's trapped in this strange valley somewhere in the mountainous region of Ireland. The dam potato famine... 😔 the land is still recovering, and there will be undertones of: Circuses, Cults, and many more things alongside the vampire themes.
Base character information and PoV playlist above cut, backstory and smaller information and ties between characters below cut
Do note, Episode 6 / the final episode for my PoV is yet to be posted... I lost the footage and have to go back in and do voice acting over the playback mod.
Horses whinnied... fires burned... and pitchforks were raised. Why would she do this? Why was mum the one to accuse me of such a crime... I didn't want to die.
Once night fell, I snook out— my hands still tied shut as they planned to burn me on the pyre tomorrow.
I ran... and I ran... I ran for a long time— until I fell... I couldn't bring myself to stand up, my legs were tired and weak beneath me— whether it be from the adrenaline wearing off to show my true terror, or from running for so long...
Maybe... maybe I could shut my eyes, just for a bit...
Snap
A branch in woods around me had been disturbed... had the mayor and his men tracked me down? Were they skipping the fire, were they going to just let their hunting hounds tear me apart?... I didn't dare move, not a muscle flinched.
"Are you okay, little one?"
The voice wasn't a towns member, too kind... I stayed down in the dirt, too tired to try and run away or even conversate.
The kind stranger cleared the hair out of my face, hands gentle— careful not to hurt.
"You're an awful long way from town— I don't suppose there is reason for that...?"
She rested her hand on the rope binds, the rope cutting deep; and limiting circulation.
"You don't have to speak... but; do you want out of this predicament? I can offer you a way out of this lifestyle, but it might not change the fact that the rest of mankind will be out to get you."
"Home..."
"I know... you can rest now, my little one."
I gave a weak nod, eyes heavy from exhaustion.
I awoke, a warm damp rag to soothe my fevers... and blankets to keep me comfort... the pale woman from the nights prior, sat on the edge of the bedding; singing quiet lullabies to me... a small part of me wanted to scream, to run... but I knew I was safe... so I stayed rested on the bed, letting my eyes drift back to sleep.
Come the next time I awoke, I felt much more rested... the bite along my arm sore— but healing properly... I could no longer look at myself in the mirror... not out of disgust, nor out of hatred for what I had willingly become; but because my reflection would never smile back at me, would never be true... my reflection. Was. Gone....
Knock Knock
"May I enter?"
Lady Corvihood, Ms. Roedette... the woman who had taken me in under her wing as if her own... the sire and harbinger of what I now am...
"Yes, come in... please."
Her smile was gentle, hands careful and tending as she wove and braided my hair. Today was the day she'd be introducing, me— her new fledgling— to her coven... HER sire: Count Silvertongue...
"Are you excited for the big day, Corbeau?"
"Yes! Will there be others... who uhh... same sort of backstory as me, there?"
"Fledglings your age, I hope not... but those who chose this life over the claims of witchcraft... I won't doubt."
Her hands were careful to not tear at any knots in my hair, gently untangling each strand— before loosely tying them all into smaller braids, which she would then braid into larger braids.
"What's our one rule?"
"Stay calm... stay calm and don't let the crave for blood take true hold?"
"Yes... do you know why this is important for the sake of not just you, but everyone?"
I shook my head.
"It's because if you further in your style of Vampirism... you'll stop aging— and if that happens, then I don't think your grandfather will be welcome to keep you or me around, and I won't be able to defend you... that is why..."
"Am... am I a danger?"
Roedette stopped in her process of weaving my hair... a solemn frown on her face.
"No— never, not under my care; you won't be a monster, nor a danger... you're a child, and you'll continue to grow that way until you are old enough to make your own decisions... then, you may choose whether you are a pacifist or not."
*"Understood?"*
"Yes..."
The carriage ride was long, I sometimes let myself slip into very light sleep... curled up against Ms. Roedette, her coat was always warm... soft wool inside... and a very gentle hint of sheep's blood that clung to it...
Late evening—beginning of the sun-set even— the carriage came to a stop... my groggy eyes heavy as I finally woke up. Ms. Roedette held my hand firm and guided me out of the carriage, and into the great manor...
"What'll happen if grandpa doesn't accept me..?"
"Then I guess we'll mark the beginning of a new coven..."
"Is that... bad?"
"All depends on perspective, really..."
The people that stood around all wore matching uniforms, and a neutral expression on each and every one of them... they all seemed tired, out of place.
"Are they okay?"
"...We'll... We'll save that conversation for another time— I don't think you're ready for that much weight on your shoulders, my dear."
She never got the chance to tell me... but I found out in the end... eventually— apparently it runs in the family.
Because her blood would be spilled for mine... I wasn't supposed to exist... and she had to pay for it. Grandfather... Count Silvertongue... he ordered it, men in British military gowns and uniform— bullets rang through the air, they purposefully prolonged her agony... they purposefully used led bullets... he knew only silver could kill a vampire...
I screamed, I kicked, and I scratched— biting and crying as older vampires dragged me away... silver chains to bind my hands shut... a muzzle even— they saw me, a child... as a monster.
I watched as he walked forward, making sure I, and only I could see what he was about to do... as he raised the stake... swinging down just as the heavy doors slammed shut
The elders had killed Roedette... Lady Corvihood... my mother...
The cage creaked and sizzled... silver against my weak skin... she was gone... they had gotten rid of her... all for me... just existing...
It was a blood moon when I was dropped off in Oakhurst... I was welcomed with a scowl, and pitchforks threatened towards me... stakes poised and ready to strike, as soon as that cage door opened— I ran, running deep into the woods... killing any small rodent I found, was it because of grief... hunger... or instinct? I wanted to go home, I wanted mother, I wanted the warmth I once had— all I had to remind myself of what once was; was her coat, and the lineage a bare in my fangs whenever the moonlight glints just right...
WOULD I FORGET HER FACE?? WOULD SHE VANISH FROM MY MEMORY?! I DIDNT WANT TO LOSE HER, I DON'T WANT HER TO DIE, NOT AGAIN...
I found myself finally at a crypt in the mountain... I had tried leaving, far, far, too many times... it was pointless... and the elder vampire who held these lands in an iron grip... was cruel... kicking and hissing if I came anywhere near town...
As I layed myself to rest in the small hole I dug out, I cried... I sobbed, I choked... and I continued to cry... I cried until I couldn't anymore; the moss would claim me... the gardens of the crypt would cover my burrow, and I would sleep... hopefully to never wake again...
Or so I thought I would....
Post awakening
The blood on my hands... is it dry, or still flowing red with iron— can I gnaw them off... satisfy my hunger, or will the pain only grow more; when I fully accept what I've done...
Ẻ̵͎k̶̪͋s̸͇̑į̵̈́ḻ̵̌ĺ̷̬... that was the boy's name— she said... I was promised... I'm sorry... I didn't mean for things to end the way they had... I just wanted a home... I pray that the lady of the woods doesn't realize... I pray she doesn't lay me to my rest... I am sorry...
No one mourns the wicked... but wicked, Corbeau was not... May you lay to rest my friend— where your kindness and whimsy came to a stop.
