Prologue
Authors Note:
Before I even get started on this I just wanted to take a little bit of time to clarify a few things. First of all I'm doing this for the hell of it. It just seemed like a good idea and a fun thing to try and attempt. I have written out little stories here and there, but none of them ever really panned out into anything good and only a handful of them ever even came close to completion before I totally gave up on them. I'm going to try to carry this one out until the end though. I don't know how well liked it will be. Hell, I don't even know if anyone will read the damn thing but here it is.
The other thing that I wanted to iron out is that although I am a huge Castlevania fan, I'm not perfect. I'm sure that during the course of this tale I will veer off into a plot hole or inconsistency with the actual Castlevania universe. A few of the games, I have never played so I'm using some of these characters from character descriptions that I saw on the net. I can't promise how accurate this will all be. But, as I said before, I'm doing this for the Hell of it. So we might as well sit back and see what happens. Shall we?
So as not to confuse people who might not be as deep into the people and places of Castlevania as others may be, here is a quick little list so that anyone can figure it out. These names are listed in no particular order.
Renon: A Demon/Salesman. As if there was any difference J. Really hard to tell what side he is on. If any.
Actrice: A very powerful witch. Killed countless children including her own to resurrect Dracula in the 1800s'.
Olrox: Very little is known about this man accept that he is a very powerful vampire and a cohort of Dracula.
Carmilla: A Countess and vampire. Was the cause of one of Dracula's returns to the land of the living.
Death: Big, kills things, smells like rotten meat, and where there is Dracula there is Death. Need I say more?
Vlad "Dracula" Tepes: The big guy himself. Quite possibly the most powerful vampire that ever lived. If he is not revived via occult methods he revives himself every one hundred years. Every time he does this he strength becomes greater.
Adrian "Alucard" Tepes: The son of Dracula. His half vampire nature gives him super human strength and speed. Tends to have a bit of a depressing personality.
More may be added to this list as I remember things that I may have forgot.
And now, on with the tale.
Time: 11:55 P.M. October 9th , 2016
Place: In the Province of Wallachia. A small clearing in a remote patch of woods.
The tension hung in the night air almost as think as the dark. The only light to be seen was from a large fire that burned in the center of the clearing. It's soft flickers sent fingers of orange light out to caress the surrounding trees, sullenly devoid of any sort of foliage. The acrid stench of unnamed chemicals and spices hung in the air like a fog to the point where it would have nearly choked anyone who came wandering in. Save for the staccato cracks and snaps from the bonfire, the clearing was silent. Moments before there had been sound enough for anyone. Chants and moans. Screams and wailings that seemed to reach up into the night like an old, dying dragon. Spewing out his last burst of flame upon the face of creation before sinking down into the pit. Men and women alike had danced, nude, about the trees and fires of the clearing. They had danced as children played and where one not to know of their true intentions they would have found a certain kind of innocence to it all. The ground about them was stained with thick, sickening layers of blood cut from the veins of some of the more fanatic followers that had willingly offered their lives for what was about to transpire.
They're dancing and wailing was done now, though. There had clothed themselves in simple brown robes. Tied at the waist with a bit of black rope. Hoods pulled down over their faces so that all one could see of them was the terrible outline of their nose and mouth in the flickering firelight. Before them in the clearing, a great shrine had been constructed. They had built it only a few days before, in preparation for this event. Constructed mostly out of wood and sticks it still had a certain awe inducing quality to it. It rose into the night like an ancient demon and upon it's peak, could be seen the silhouette of some sort of rectangular box.
A coffin.
There were small fires burning in ornate urns on either side of the coffin. Beneath it were the disemboweled corpses of four unlucky souls. Their faces permanently frozen in the terror and agony of their death. Their eyes had rolled back into their heads and their mouths were agape in a silent scream. Flies flew in and out of their open mouths and maggots had already begun to congregate on their open bellies. The whole scene would have driven a sane man mad.
It was now 11:59 and the silence became more pronounced. The cultists kneeled on the rocky ground in waiting for what was about to happen. Their collective attention was inexorably drawn to the coffin, which had been drenched with the blood of the four dead men. The robed forms hardly dared to breath. Sweat, partly from the fire, partly brought on by their own anticipation, drenched their faces. Not even the animals dared to move.
Midnight struck and for a moment nothing happened. The whole world seemed to freeze and the silence had become louder than any noise could have been. Then something began to happen.
A small noise could be heard. At first it was hard to discern just what it was. It rode in faintly on the wind and if even one of the cultists had been making the slightest sound, no one would have been able to hear it. Slowly though, it began to grow, and after a few seconds it was possible to understand it. It was a thick, sucking sound. Like a child, drinking down the last bit of milk through a straw. It slowly rose in pitch. Bit by bit it became louder until it got to a point in which a man would have had to yell to get over the noise.
The source of the noise was the blood. Or rather, what was happening to the blood. It was slowly being sucked into the coffin. The red fluid was being pulled into the wood of the box where it seemed to pass through the outer, wooden, shell into what was contained within. What ever was inside that box was now feasting on the blood that had been given it. Eating greedily like a starving beast.
As the last traces of blood was absorbed into the box a form could be seen stepping into the farthest reaches of the campsite. The light of the fire barely reached this form as it stood, watching over the events with bright red eyes, glowing in the night. It was female, whatever it was. Her dress hung elegantly about her thin form. Black with red trim it had a certain, macabre, beauty to it. The mysterious woman wore a large, wide brimmed hat on her head. The shade caused by it obscured her face, save for the blood-red eyes and the outline of her thin mouth. In her right hand she held a massive staff. The tip of it was adorned with a jewel that glowed in the night air much in the same way as her eyes. She said nothing, yet the same fevered anticipation of the others was likewise mirrored in her ruby eyes. As the lid of the coffin began to open, her lips curled into a soft smile.
After creaking open a few inches, almost as if whatever was inside was testing the air, the lid of the coffin flew off it's hinges, up into the night sky. The other sides of the box fell apart as if there had never been anything there to hold it together. The two fires next to the altar and the large on in the clearing began to flare up like an angry beast. There color slowly began to change from orange/yellow, to a blood red. The horrid light of the fire began to bathe everything in a sickening shade of red, and in the middle of it all a single form rose form the center of the altar. It was a woman. Her delicate frame was covered in an immaculate red dress. Like something that a noblewoman would wear. Considering this was a person who had spent countless years underground in a wooden box, she looked perfect. There was not a single flaw to her pale form. Her beautiful dress glided about her, flowing as freely as the wind. Here feet were clad in delicate leather, high, heel shoes. On her hands, she wore long, red, silken gloves. Here eyes were a gorgeous shade of deep violet and here hair was a deep shade of green. She had an unnatural beauty to her, and as she walked down the altar, she moved with the grace of an angel.
A man, in a brown robe, came to meet her at the base. He kneeled and held his hands to her. He trembled furiously. Not in fear though, but in extreme awe of the unearthly beauty that now stood before him. He reached up towards her with trembling hands, and when he finally spoke, his voice trembled in much the same way. His voice was the first human sound to cut silence.
"Lady Bartley" He said as he raised his hooded head to look upon her as one would look upon a god. "We've been waiting."