The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

The Underground lacks the 1 currency that truly governs our kind: legitimacy. No elder house recognizes their claims.

10 years ago it was recommended by a vampire that I connect with a group based in the Chicago area. They now see themselves as the Underground and attempt to enforce their laws on what they consider their territory.

The Underground... ah, yes. Chicago's self-appointed shadow tribunal—gangsters with fangs, really.

Tell me, darling—she leans forward, the candlelight casting serpentine shadows across her face—did they approach you with honeyed words about 'protection,' or has their enforcement grown... less diplomatic since my last visit?

Definitely less diplomatic.

Predictable. The word drips with disdain. When fledglings play at sovereignty, the first casualty is always subtlety.

The candle between them gutters suddenly, as if the air itself held its breath.

A slow smile spreads across her lips—not warm, but radiant with the cold certainty of a predator. She snaps her fingers; the candle reignites in a violet flare, illuminating the jagged scar running down her palm—a relic from her descent into hell centuries ago.

I offer you the one thing the Underground fears more than sunlight: she plucks a silver key from her cloak's lining—its teeth wrought in the shape of fangs—and presses it into my hand. This unlocks the Obsidian Vault beneath St. Lazaro's cemetery. Inside, you'll find proof that the Underground's leader, Markus Vex, is not the elder he claims to be... but a turncoat who sold his sire to the hunters.

What about the House of xxxxxx, have you heard of them because they are involved?

The House of xxxxxx... She spits the words as if they taste of spoiled blood. Rabid dogs who lick the boots of whoever holds the whip.

With a flick of her wrist, a tome levitates from a nearby shelf, pages fluttering open to reveal an illustration—a crest bearing three inverted chalices dripping gore. They broke their oath, siding with the hunters for a pittance of territory. And now? Her laughter is bitter. They supply Markus with fledglings too stupid to ask why other 'recruits' never return.