Deep in the heart of the Ozark Mountains lay a bed of limestone, and into that rock formed numerous series of caverns. Most of these caverns lay unexplored by humans, and those became a sanctuary for creatures that could not bear to look at the light of the sun.

To the ancient Babylonians and Hebrews, they were known as the Lilitu, the Greeks called them the Empusa, Lamia, and Striges, but it would be in Albany where they would finally adopt a name for their whole race. As the society slowly developed and clans formed, an identity for who and what they were was important. The first council had decided that the name being circulated, as it was spoken in hushed reverence, in dark alleys, would do fine, the Shtriga.

One such older Shtriga walked at a slow, stately pace down a walkway paved with light green limestone and illuminated with sputtering lamps. His posture lent the appearance of someone with great stature and a high position in the city in which he now walked. Everything in a Shtriga's life came down to order in the Shtriga's life and loyalty to one's Bloodline. The Bloodline consisted of a Patriarch or Matriarch who led and was responsible for the entire Bloodline, all the Shtriga families that had formed under that House throughout the centuries, and all the Vetalas created by each Shtriga. If the head of a Bloodline were to perish and there was no heir to claim the Bloodline, then all would become orfan, the unclaimed, the lowest caste in the Shtriga society. If you demanded respect and dealt harshly with those who were foolish enough to deny it to you, then your Bloodline's spot in society would be preserved. Such was the way of Marumures and the way it would remain.

As he made his way through the streets of the immense underground city of Marumures, he pondered the predicament he found himself in. The iridescent lights of the fungus that the Shtriga liked to grow beside the lake, reflected lightly off of his greying hair that had turned almost a light blue in hue, and he stopped to stare into the dark waters where sightless fish swam, not much unlike his Dhampir and son out on the surface currently looking for that wretched traitor. Heath would die, preferably slowly, if Gerald had a chance to keep him at his estate in a cave just off the main auditorium, but first, his aging Dhampir had to find the young whelp. He also still had to deal with his rebellious son, who had caused it all. Taunted Heath until the young boy snapped, and he struck him in anger.

It mattered not why the young Dhampir hit him. No one, not Dhampir, not impure or otherwise known as Vetalas, nor human thralls struck a Shtriga. The penalty for striking a Maestru or Master was death. Heath had shown promise as a future guardian, but his impunity could not be left unpunished, to do otherwise would show weakness in House Bacui. There was enough division between the younger Shtriga who were siding with the Vetalas in lending them representation on the common's council and the elder council, the last of the old ways. The thrall breeding was a necessary evil that Gerald himself instituted once the territory truces went into effect. He was fully against them, feeling the territory the Marumures had been allotted did not afford them the same hunting opportunities that other cities had. Then there was the loss of several heads of households in the War of the Brethren, that led to the Truces. Marumures had unfortunately been at the forefront of the cause, with several hundreds migrating out of the city for greener pastures. The loss of the Bloodlines meant an abundance of orfan that had to be fed but no laws and no one with the stomach to make laws to deal with the orfan harshly. This left a food shortage.

"Maestru Gerald!"

The voice carried quietly in the cavern, echoing lightly off the unseen walls in the dimly lit city. A younger Shtriga dressed in a soft gray robe. It signified a position on the elder council, the upper ruling house of the Shtriga society. It was unusual for one of his age to such an advanced position. Typically his father would sit in the elder council while he held the seat in the common's council. It was rumored that this ambitious young man had helped his father to meet the Night Father before his appointed time. It was a bold, daring move that was unheard of for a Shtriga. Many did not respect him but feared him. Shtriga had very small family units but large extended family units. Many saw their family as precious, being too hard to replace when you considered all the negotiations that had to take place to secure mating rights and ownership rights of the child. Robin, however, must have seen only opportunity.

"Maestru Robins, I hope your night is well?" Gerald greeted him cooly.

"My sources tell me that a Dhampir has escaped your custody. Is it true?" The young man asked eagerly, his colorless pupils stared intently at Gerald's face searching for an answer. Gerald held his face carefully emotionless, knowing anything that Robins gleaned from him would be stored away and used against him when an opportunity presented itself for Robins to advance his agenda, whatever that was.

"If that were so, I would have been obligated to convene the elder council to form a posse for retrieval. Did you get a notice to convene?" Gerald asked with a carefully raised eyebrow. An escaped Dhampir was a security risk for the city and an emergency meeting of the full Council must be convened to raise a posse of experienced Dhampir and Shtriga to hunt them down before exposure can happen. Robin's hopeful face fell a little.

"No, but that does not mean you would not have ignored protocol to protect yourself," Robin said, his tone having a hint of accusation in it.

"Boy, I have been on the council longer than you have been alive. I could have you sitting in a day cell, getting your pretty face singed for such accusations, so I would keep such things to yourself. If a problem in my house were to arise, unlike some people on this council, I would act with honor!" His face turned red with the indignation of the accusation as he turned on his heel and walked off.

Robin watched with interest and a sparkle in his eye. He motioned to the shadows, and a brute of a man, whose muscles coiled with each movement, eased towards the waiting Shtriga. Gerald's reaction had given all he needed to know. There was someone lost from Marumures and there was an opportunity here that he could leverage advantage if he could find the boy.

"Our friend has lost something, I think," he said thoughtfully, and then he broke out in an evil grin, "and I want you to find it first."