vampire vel lore (Patreon)

I'm always a little tentative about sharing my writing but here's some stuff I was thinking about for vampire vel

Vampire!Vel thoughts;

Vel has a symbiotic relationship (mutually beneficial interaction) with the house they inhabit. The house itself was not built by him, nor is the house itself the initial manifestation of negative energies- Instead it is a host to the land, a large swath of territory that sucked up the misery and dread of war and famine and dark incantations over hundreds of years of strife, settled into the very soil.

Tombs upon tombs and improperly disposed of bodies crumbled up beneath the growing mound of land and rubble make up the mulch that nourishes the malcontented beast of a house.

It is not the first property that’s been built there, the history runs long into the past, repetitive attempts to colonize and settle foundations that were overturned by conflict or appropriated by cults. It is, however, the one ‘successful’ attempt at settling down by past land-owners. Of course many of the people who would move in or try to take ownership of the parcel would tragically go missing, or turn up in pieces around the decreasing forestry as encroachment persisted. All of those people were human, naturally.

Eventually (approximately the mid 1600’s in real time, but this is not in the same timeline as IRL) Vel would find himself migrating to the territory, seeking refuge, and drawn by the sheer energy of the land they would settle down there. The manor, empty and ill-kept, would become his place of respite. Through habitation  and repairs, the Vampire would come to find that the tendrils of the soil had crept into the very foundations of the building, using its hollow bones of wood and steel to manifest within.

Perhaps it was that the home was made of viscera itself that it had not fallen to pieces, the shell held together by veins and sinew, a home with a heartbeat and blood. And as such massive beasts go, its own swath of parasites; or perhaps its microcosm of fauna, small and large, like the cells of a body protecting their host from invaders.

Luck? Or Vel happened to fit the heart shaped lock, perfectly compatible with the immune system of the land and the home, and with his arrival came the added benefit of fresh meat. Living un-living, the need to feed would of course drive Vel to hunt, to bring in his meals and lure and seduce residents far and wide into his cave, where the leftovers that he could not drink would be swallowed up by the manor.

Eventually there would be notice.

The hysteria of witches and the fear of Vampires brought on by the illness of consumption would drive the people forth, digging up graves and setting rocks in the jaws of the dead to prevent them from rising again to feed and staking out their hearts or what was left. The rage and delusion of it would be blind and swift, justified or not, taking out passerbys in their pursuit for demons. Rumor moves fast, and the mass panic would bring men and women desperate to not receive blame to Vel’s home, to burn him out.

That day, they say the stench of burning flesh and hair traveled far and wide, a thick black plume of noxious vapors reminiscent of charred bodies that carried into towns and cities. Hearsay and gossip speak of seeping blood, a thick, oily puddle that made the earth sopping mud. Corrections down the line would cry out that it was a natural spill, that the flames and the heat had brought deposits of tar or oil shales to the surface. The house itself never did fell- steadfast, but the memory of it would fade into irrelevance.

When the hysteria faded from the collective consciousness of man, Vel would re-emerge, scarred by the incident but wiser for it; more careful and insidious, tactful in his approach with men and women alike. The wounds would heal, the house repaired, an unmoving monolith that would become a quiet trademark of the environment, taken care of by a hidden ‘lineage’ of overseers. A family made of one, Vel, living within the manor and penning addresses from a far continent to the would-be historians looking to preserve the location as a vintage landmark.

Under his name it would remain closed to the public, the Lore around it speaking of a long line of Parents and their children coming of age to inherit the property, paying for and managing it from their overseas ivory towers, not quite willing to give up their generational relic.

And Vel would continue to feed, and the house would continue to grow.