Anamaria Van Helsing's Story

Anamaria Van Helsing walked into the bar, the click of her dusty brown boots clacking against the floor, spurs chinking as she reached up, grabbing the fedora off her head and hanging it on the available hat-rack. She slipped out of her trench, hanging it as well.

Anamaria Van Helsing had a pair of percussion pistols hanging off of each hip, a large crucifix dangling from her neck to just above her navel. She smoothed the slacks that clung to her shapely legs, rolling her shoulders as she walked toward the bar counter.

Anamaria Van Helsing tapped the counter. "Is der anyvun who is tending?" she asked, her rich brown hair spilling over her shoulders as she leaned to look around.

Anamaria Van Helsing stands up a little straighter, the crucifix falling against her laced-up abdomen as she turned to Trinadeh. The woman was looking at her. She looked back.

Anamaria Van Helsing noticed Ignatius, his symbols of professional exorcism, and had to smile.

The woman, would draw her cross-bow and approaching from out of under the stairs, she spoke with thick English accent, "Foul beasts, we have found you at last Casren Bistreo, you and your loathsome master Dracula, you near destroyed my father, well no more, surrender now and your deaths shall be swift, I will not ask again." she was dressed in long coat covering a rather beautiful blue dress, a cross around her neck and two revolvers within her belt holster.

"I am Anamarie Van-Helsing the direct descendant of Abraham Van-Helsing the first ever vampire hunter, I am ready for whatever tricks you pull and am protected by my conviction to the lord!"

Gasping she found herself unable to act, and simply nodded replying in mono-tone, "I broke in through basement and snuck up, I intended to do my father proud and destroy Detente for good. I am protected by the great implements and am ready to face anyone." with that she would drop her cross-bow her eyes utterly scared.

Sitting in the dank dungeon scared out of her mind, she had her weapons taken off and somehow they had taken her cross leaving her neck bare. How had this happened, she had listened to her father carefully about everything, but still had somehow failed? Why had God not protected her, why had she waited and not fired instead?

It did not matter, here she was alone in a cell, the dripping receding from the ceiling and algae and the likes growing around, the cobbles glistening with the water. No rats, no anything just her on her own, how had she let this happen, how? She a Van-Helsing, she rushed in blindly and truly forgot core rule, don't go up against more than one vampire if possible. She had neglected the hypnosis of those foul fiends... Now here she was crying alone in some god-forgotten dungeon... Why had she been forsaken?

You need not cry,

The voice seemed to emanate from the stones itself. It was old, more so than the voices from before, and had a hint of an accent long lost.

You need not die.

Was there of amusement to the words, and where exactly did they come from? The shadows beyond the bars, it would seem, just out of reach of confinement. The voice taunted, haunted, but didn't reveal it's face. The accent would be placable as Greek.

Lifting her head in fury she would yell back, "Show yourself foul beast, I have nary the time or inclination to deal with your kind. You won leave me to die in shame, you are not worth my time." with that she would furiously pound wall next to her, screaming in anguish, her fists beginning to bleed, "Leave I still have my dignity and if I am to die, I will die a Van-Helsing not become some unholy creature and forsake the lord and my father."

The figure of a man, broad, muscled, paler than moonlight would appear as quickly as a light would snuff out. He stood just within the bars, twinkling eyes fixed on the damsel in distress.

Foul beast,

He drawled, hypnotic eyes fixed upon her, repeating her insults back as if they were spoken in praise.

Unholy creature, forsaken of the Lord, the Father,

a devilish smile revealed fangs that were shorter than expected. They were not to be underestimated.

My kind,

The old vampire advanced towards her, bare chest shimmering beneath his blood red toga. The vampire, though old, was strong. He came from a time of physical prowess, where the mind and the body were worked to their extent. Slowly, he continued towards her, wishing to corner her, wishing to assert his power.

The last two words, he spoke with conviction, with another flash of teeth,

Your kind.

Trembling she tried desperately to resist, tried to reason and argue with herself, her fingers clawing walls in utter desperation, "W...why...why can you not... le...le...let me die... I...I...I...I am a Van-Helsing... I AM A VAN-HELSING, I AM A VAN-HELSING, I AM A VAN-HELSING." she kept repeating it to try and fight the hypnosis and it appeared to work, "I am not some weak girl, my father captured and defeated Dracula, he beat you all. I AM A VAN-HELSING. I AM ANAMARIE VAN-HELSING THE LAST LIVING RELATIVE OF THIS FAMILY AND I WILL NOT FORSAKE MY HUMANITY!"

He cocked his head, delighted. Blood was flowing free now, from her hands, and soon her throat.
Just the theatrics he was looking for.

Yes, you are Van Helsing,

There was a laugh on the edge of his taunt, He came close enough to touch, breathing in deep the scent of her frightened flesh. Yes, any and all would be wise to feel fear in his presence.
Especially when he had the spotlight.

And so you will be a Van Helsing,

He leaned in close, looking deep into her eyes,

Forever.

Spinning around she pleaded, "No... I must remain pure, must die... must die human... why must you change me, are you humiliated that a family unknown before started to reveal the truth, are you so scared by this? Get with the times. I am a Van-Helsing your worse enemy and I will fight until my dying breath." with that she would lift her knee up roughly to try get him in the groin, then elbow his chest and run to other side of the cell, "I AM A VAN-HELSING... And I will not forsake our motto... "We will not give up and despair, We are on a mission from God,"!"

Easily, almost pathetically, he dodged. Mortals, always on missions from some god or another.

He did not bother with words, but simply used this opportunity to attack. Against the wall, then straight after her, barely feeling pain as what hit him of her blows connected. He was old, for the love of!

He was done fooling around now. She was cornered, he made sure, moving his bulk to block her in. The old vampire swooped, one hand going for her throat, the other for her abdomen, to press his prey into the wall. Sirin' time he would think to himself, noting that this was most certainly a worthy opponent.

Strong as a mortal, strong as a vampire.

Wincing she would scream out, "I AM A VAN-HELSING I SHALL NOT FORSAKE GOD, I WILL NOT FORSAKE GOD. I AM ANAMARIE VAN-HELSING I WILL NOT SUCCUMB, I WILL DIE... I WILL DIE... I WILL NOT... I REFUSE TOO..." as she feebly fought, she tried anything, tears welling in her eyes as her last word was, "I am a Van-Helsing... I am... I am... I am... nothing..."

With that her eyes would close over...

Then, he took her soul. At least, that's probably what she though. What he most certainly did take was her blood. Most of it, replacing some of it with his precious siring venom.

Finishing, the vampire pulled back to admire his work. Dead, soon undead. Perfect. Effortlessly, he hoisted the female over his shoulder and went to bring her to a legitimate room. Now that she was blood, the dungeons were not worthy.

I am Zosimos,

He whispered to her,

I am your Sire, you are my Kin,

She most likely couldn't hear,

Welcome to your new life.

Within the fever-dream... within the realm she now stood, she heard echos and distant screams, witnessed the Prince of Darkness slaughter many, witnessed the final battle... witnessed the imprisonment of the beast...

She was Anamarie Van-Helsing... but the light faded and darkness engulfed... she must redeem herself, she had been raped with this... she had been raped and forcefully turned away from the father... the lord...

She was Anamarie Van-Helsing...

The eyes would laugh and mouths would see...

She was Anamarie Van-Helsing.

The ears would laugh... and holy rays would shatter her form, death and holy spirit had stopped caring, she was a mongrel... no longer pure...

The eyes still laughed...

The eyes still laughed...

Zosimos waited in the room for his new kin to awaken.

It had been years, centuries perhaps, since he had let his venom slip. Now, he was going to enjoy the result. She was a fiery one, daughter of a famous hunter of their kind. A hunter herself, or so she was.

Silently, patiently, he sat.

Slowly but surely she would open her eyes, blinking and then staring around, she would whimper and say, "Torture the little maiden you did, torture her and drain her... all those pretty photos Mother took are stained now in blood. I once met the man who whispered of such promise, but little Annie knew he lied." she would touch her neck and ask, "Why does it not weep, for I am wanting oblivion, I will take in bed and decapitate her in cruel spread. I shall fly from the window and break my neck, snap, snap and then dead. Little Annie, little Annie you left her dead."



He could hear the murmers of his new kin, and couldn't help but smile. Such torture, such hate, such passion. It was refreshing after all these years, refreshing after seeing what his line turned to and from.

Good luck with that, deary

Zosimos juiced, mocking Casren's Italian accent. His voice slipped lower, into a laugh, which began deep in his throat and came to echo in the room.

You wish to live eterninty with a snapped neck? Don't let me try to stop you, as if it would work,

More of that menacing laughter.

She would stand up and argue, "You broke Little Annie, look at her all dead, why should I not break your head, crush it clean, crush it dirty, crush it all over Casren brain, you hurt little Annie." she would skip along appearing rather deranged, "Death kill, killing death she is dead, just dead. Deader than dead, I want my doll!"


An interesting outcome indeed. It would appear his new kin slipped into the habit of speaking in third person. Still Zosimos smiled, walking close to Anamaria and moving to embrace her. He would be strong, looking deep into her eyes, working to assert his power over his kin.

"]Deader than dead, but more alive than ever" He crooned, "You may have your doll, Annie, but first she must be sewn" Zosimos would walk his kin back, wishing to seat them both on the bed. It was time to explain to her the concept of a flesh puppet.

She would follow cuddling the doll tightly appearing so juvenile and innocent, "Little Annie wants to see the crying... all these wounds tears over her face, all there saline solution her elixir. Make them cry Litttle Annie, make them cry watch them weep and then make them whimper as two points cry crimson drops, drip drop, drip drop all on my tongue... like these pretty little scars on my arms." with that she tears her claws over her arms and watch memerized as the blood fell.



Well, this would not do.
Self harm, no no no. Zosimos reached forward, to grab his kin by the wrists.
"Absolutely not," He said sternly, "Are you to draw blood from yourself. It is why," The vampire added, "There are humans we kill. I do believe they get delivered here. Annie,"
Zosimos looked again into her eyes,
"Annie, are you thirsty?"

Still watching drips from her arm, she would respond, "Little rivers on my Niles little rivers which Little Annie flow down, down into depths of Hades... splash and splish we all fall down and no one will remember, no will think... Little Annie shall instead just watch as the blood falls from the sky, as she creates little inlets over her whole body, she will become the Amazon with lots of tributaries... lots of little crimson paths."


Then, it dawned on him.
Necromance and blood worship be damned, she wasn't even supposed to bleed as much as she was. Had he, somehow...

"Annie, do you hunger?" Zosimos shook her, "Do you wish a corpse to play with?"

She would look up and nod slowly, "Little rivers... all dripping over my body, raining down and I am being soaked in them all, pretty little showers soaking Little Annie as she dances around the corpses. So many rivers, so many inlets one cut, two cut, lots of patterns within my flesh. Little Annie desires to patch-work of all her sins, so much delicious elixer, I hunger and desire more. Please Daddy don't hurt those streams, let them flow and never stop, my heart wishes for more."


Zosimos moved to grab his new kin by the hand, immediately making for the door.
There was a solution to this, somewhere. If she was skilled in the art of Blood Magery, had somehow inherited through blood an art long lost to his line, then this could mean very large things.

He had to find another necromancer, another blood mage, another vampire like her.

They made it to the door before he realized exactly how horrible of an idea it was to drag her out into the public like this, looking for who they were looking for. Zosimos sighed, slowing his stride and carefully pulling towards the kitchens.

First, she would have to feed.

Casren's eyes flashed to Yves, as the general had the full attention of the room. He spoke of expansion, of nations.

"An established council would be wise," Casren said with a smile, "However, all should elect this council, no? And, perhaps," He looked to Manik, to Reisel, to his Kin, "Not so much of a delegating council as...Committees!"

Manik snorted, but nodded in agreement. It wasn't the worst ideas. He didn't know how he felt about a whole town of vampires, and was certain walls were no way to give a good message. Reisel said not a word, looking to the eldest Dracul. He agreed with most of what Yves said, but everyone knew the General sometimes went overboard.e

Zosimos, however, stood and applauded. It was a slow clap, and as he emerged from the shadows to stand on the table center he swept the room with a twinkling glare.

"Commitees," The greek man relished the word, "Factions," His eyes were alive, fists curled. "Nations!" Zosimos punched the air, striking a dramatic warrior's pose.

"In the night we will rise, in this Wood we will flourish," Zosimos pointed to the shadows. A young woman dressed in a dress and carrying a doll would enter, less imposing and more innocent there were scars on her arms- self inflicted apparently she would giggle and say, "Little Annie knows people know how to kill you are, but united you will be stronger, and in great city walls you will be survivors."

"We have among us one of many, almost one of every. A Necromagika!" He of course spoke of the diversity of the Vankoryth Detente, and of the newly emerged woman of chaos. "Our blood runs thickest, as it is the sum of many. We will be survivors," Zosimos turned to Casren, his Kin. Suddenly, his posture dropped back, and Zosimos kicked his way towards Casren emulating a jersey boy

"You run this shit," Zosimos laid on the accent, "Whatcha gonna do 'bout the ones who doubt?"

"Make them beleive," Spoke a seething voice from behind, Manik Chakur. In response, Casren smiled his wildest of grins.

"An' the ones who won'?" With a nod, Zosimos turned to Yves, "Outta here."

Casren chimed in instantly, "This can only apply for Vampyric Blood. Ah," he sighed, pulling from his coat a parchment and pen, "It appears it is time for another clause to be added. Oh, the Blood Edict," Casren reminded Zosimos' quizzical expression, who was still a bit out of the loop.

Casren set to work writing.

Whispering sweet nothings, she would stroke the bloodied mane of the horse, "pony quiet now, pony let Annie ride... pony not try hurt her... pony rest.. Annie stroke... Annie will never stop stroking." smiling she would roughly paw over the haunch, her dress stained crimson while a flow bled from below the dead mammal. She would merely ignore this, sighing content, her eyes so full of innocence and triumph, "Pony... love Annie... Annie... love pony."

Turning she would smile and crawl over to hug his leg, "Yay, Daddy's favorite vampire, you wish to see my pet pony, I am calling her Crystal and will ride her everyday!" she would appear totally oblivious to the fact the horse was dead even by her hand.