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BloodDrake







Life of Death

PREFACE

Life hasn’t always been torturous; it used to be humorous and comical, but… that was over 500 of your years ago

CHAPTER 1: THE BIRTH

Rigor mortis had struck the air on the day of our birth; the clouds were dark and mellow through the outlying abyss of a world. The date is July 14, 1483. The icy peaks of the Carpathians glowed in the darkness surrounding this unholy ceremony which hell itself fears to approach in thought of being overcome and demolished by the succumbing of that of sadistic pleasure. In the distance the aurora borealis gleamed into a bloody red swirl below a red moon.

“It is time,” said a mysterious and ominous voice.

“Nay the time is still to come,” said a dark feminine voice

“Voica, it is time my love, to bring those bloody îngeri out of thee,” said a strong and dark masculine toward the female.

“Come with me,” said the mysterious voice again as he led them to a giant granite table engraved with mass runes that read

That who is born in the darkness of night shall be reborn as the siege of hell

Around the border of the table had a black lining circumventing the spherical indentation in the center. On the side of the table is a dual blade samurai Katana with runes of death and strength on the base of the black ivory hilt embedded with black sapphires and an apocalyptic dragon skull on the bottom.

“Lie down on the center Voica,” said the mysterious voice.

“Yes Father,” said Voica as she climbed upon the spherical indentation.

“It is time to do what ye Mihnea cel Rau have to do to bring thou offspring to this desolate plain of existence,” said the mysterious voice that is clearly revered as Vlad Tepeş.

“Aye,” said Mihnea as he pick up the cursed katana and slices open the womb of his wife, then enters his hand through the gap that was just produced and pulled out a boy.

“Aye, a boy, his name shall be Draco întuneric Dracul von Tepeş,” declared Mihnea.

“Wait! Look yonder, there is another!” Cried Voica in a sense of despair. Mihnea reaches in again and brings out another boy.

“Another boy; his name shall be Vla...” said Mihnea, but is interrupted by Vlad

“Drakan shall be his name,” announces Vlad

“Aye, a fine name father,” declared Mihnea and Voica in unison.

Voica stands up, oblivious to her injuries, and holds the babies then she shrieks in surprise.

“What’s wrong Voica?” Uttered Vlad and Mihnea in unison.

“The boys, they are…. genetically malformed; they are more than vampires. They have a certain aura to them. Come yonder and feel it.” As Vlad and Mihnea approach the baby they sense great power within and exclaim: “these will make great warriors in the years to come. They shall end the war of the blood and begin a new reign, the reign of sânge.”

“Look!” Shrieked Voica, directing everyone to Draco who is “fanging” on his hand, while his brother grabbed for the sword lying yonder on the granite table.

“They are hungry and wish to fight,” said Voica.

“Aye, so am I let us go out to feast upon the mortals at hand,” said Mihnea as they flew off into the cold night air.

All had left, all but Vlad. As he gazed into the distance at the point of which the others had dissipated into the night air he heard some crying. He turned around and he spotted the place of disturbance. It was Drakan; they had left him behind. Vlad walked over to the unfortunate child and tsked to himself.

“They are not ready to parent, art they young one?” Drakan grabbed at an amulet dangling from his grandfather’s neck. “Ah, I’ve seen that you have spotted the family amulet.” Vlad removes the amulet from around his neck and places it around Drakan’s.

“You listen here and remember these words: “Death is the portal to life, to die is just to be reborn into something greater. Life is the true end, and death is just the beginning.”

A scream echoes through the midnight air as Mihnea and Voica discover that they have left Drakan. At the point of which they return they discover that their father had been tending to Drakan.

“Thank you, father for thy nutriment toward our son.”

“It’s my duty toward the family; it’s no big deal.”

“Now how about we go feed, yonder children look famished.”

At this they all take to the sky and fly across the silver lined, snow covered mountain ranges of the Carpathians while the twinkle in the moon lit night air. They flew for nearly an hour until they came upon a majestic city with golden gateways and houses made of valuable materials such as iron, copper, and brass with an overcoat of dense and exotic woods. As they approached the center of the town all the civilians on the streets ran into their into houses fear of the creatures, yet to come from the rugged midnight terrain. Finally, upon their travel for food, they came upon a wooded shack with no front door. They walk toward the entrance and bellow through the door way.

“Hello is anyone in there?” No sound came out from the run down shack, so they called again. “Hello?”

This time a voice responded.



CHAPTER 2: THE FEEDING

As soon as they entered the shack the owner of the voice noticing what he just did shouted.

“Vampires? Get out of my house!” shouted the villager in terror.

“Nay, for thou have invited us in. We shall leave when we feel fit,” they chortled.

“Thou art not wanted here; leave now!”

“Thou should have thought of that before ye invited us inside thine dwelling. Now ye must pay the price by becoming our dinner. Tis thou own fault for the pain and suffering we shall inflict upon thine body and ever eternal soul,” Mihnea chanted into the eternal essence of the man.

“Leave now! I hast no quarrel with thou, now leave my dwelling and leave me to peace,” He shouted.

“Why should we leave thou to peace when thou would look far more appetizing in pieces?” They chortled as Voica advanced for the kill.

“Dracu La Morte!” Shouts the man seconds before his crippling screams fill the air with blood and misery.

“Wait,” Vlad announced. “Let’s have some fun with him first before he dies.”

“Aye,” the others agreed in unison.

“But what shall we do with him?” asked Voica inquisitively.

“The answer tis simple; use the torture dungeon,” Said Vlad with a sadistic grin.

The man awoke in a dark room, but there was something strange and out of place about the scenery, everything was upside-down as if all the furniture was on the ceiling. Finally, it hit him the room wasn’t upside-down, he was. All of a sudden the door opened, and in stepped Mihnea.

“Let me out of hither!” shouted the man.

“Now why should I do that when it would be more entertaining to hear thine scream of pain echo through the gates of hell and back from the suffering I shall inflict upon thou?” Mihnea says as he picks up a rust dagger and throws it into a bottle of salt water.

“Please don’t kill me, I have a wife and kids; a family to feed,” The man begged.

“I abhor that cliché!” He shouted as he picked up the dagger again and rammed it through the villager’s inner thigh. The villager screamed from the affliction and passed out yet again.

This time when he woke the room was lit, and what he saw made him scream in fright; for all around him were multiple machines that were stained in blood.

Instantaneously the smell of rancid blood hit his nose and caused him to vomit, but when he tried to roll to clear his mouth he noticed that he was tied down to a wooden table and bound by a thin fur of unknown origin, he was also adjacent to what looked like a knight’s helmet, but with spikes sticking out in every which way. He turned to his left and saw a sight which caused him to soil himself, it was a fresh dead body; he could still feel the warmth coming off of it. It was a young woman, pale at the face, with hair of ruby, and eyes of emerald that will forever haunt his dreams if he were to escape. Then he noticed the dead woman’s face had a chastity smile and no eye lids. He screamed again, the woman’s mouth twitched.

“H-h-h-help me,” she whispered and then faded into death.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” came a familiar masculine voice. “Death is the most wondrous ability that everything alive can experience, but when thou gets it down to such a fine art that I have, thou can’t ignore the beauty of it. So tell me, what doth thou prefer, life or a painful death?” questioned Mihnea.

“Vedem în iad, te bucata murdare de rahat,” shouted the man as he spat in Mihnea face.

“Such language, let’s see what thou can say with no tongue,” Mihnea chortles

“That’s it. Time for fun is over,” Vlad said as he walked in through the door.

“Yes father, time for dinner,” said Mihnea as he grabbed for the helmet.

When Vlad spotted what his son was doing, he grabbed his arm and broke it.

“What art thou doing?” both Vlad and Mihnea shouted in unison.

“What art thou trying to do, kill him?” chortled Vlad.

“Tis what thou wanted of me, is it not?” Mihnea answered back.

“Nay, I said have fun, not kill the poor man, but ye thou right; tis time for dinner,” said Vlad.

“Voica, tis time for the young ones to feed for their first,” shouted Mihnea.

“Fir-ar Eu vin!” Came a far off voice that seemed leagues away, but the origin of the voice entered almost instantaneously, which belonged to a woman of about six feet tall with black hair and fire red eyes. “Good, she said, ‘I’m thirsty’.”

“Wait,” Vlad called. “I have to knock him out first or he might move and kill himself.” Vlad takes out a bottle off a clear liquid that smelled strongly of alcohol.

“There, he is out now let’s feed,” she said and she bit into his neck, sucked up a mouthful of blood and offered it to Draco, but the baby wouldn’t drink, so she offered it to Drakan, who saw what his brother did and copied him and didn’t drink either. “Mihnea, father, they refuse blood. What’s wrong with my babies?” Voica shrieked.

“They are most likely not hungry,” stated Vlad.

“You’re probably right father,” Voica said with relief.

“That’s it, they are not hungry, they are not hungry,” Voica chanted to herself.

“Voica, I think it’s a good idea if I look after the boys for awhile, thou art becoming paranoid,” said Mihnea after he was finished feeding off the villager.

“Never! You’ll never take my kids away from me!” shouted Voica. “Sorry, maybe I am becoming a little paranoid after all.”

“A little?” said Vlad and Mihnea in unity.

“I’d hate to see thou paranoid then,” chortled Vlad

“So, what shall we do with him?” asked Mihnea in reference to the villager.

“Thou shall take him back to his home and place him in his bed so that he shall think it was all a bad dream,” advised Vlad



Chapter 3: Child’s Play

“Scara, Otrava what art thou doing in their crib?” Voica exclaimed at the two twelve foot black emerald snake with jade colored eyes.

The one called Scara had a red stripe down the center of her perfectly black spine while the other one, Otrava had two stripes of silver and a single stripe of gold.

Otrava turned her slender silverlined head slightly, then open her mouth to show the three inch long fangs pertruding out of her slimy mucus infested mouths. Scara, spotting his sister preparing for a strike approached her and prepared himself as well for the assault upon the other child.

Hissing softly Otrava and Scara cocked their heads and propaired to strike at the infants’ throats, but just an instant before the serpants struck, Draco and Drakan grabbed them by their jaws, and ripped their jaws asunder. Draco and Drakan then brought the bloody serpents to their mouths and indulged in the sweet taste of blood, the sickly sound of slurping and sucking filled the castle air as the infants feed for their very first time in this world.

Voica, hearing the blood wrenching sounds of suckling and laughter came to investigate upon her offspring. What she found though was a bloodbath of snake guts and babies laughing in sadistic glee.

. “La Dracu!” she swore when she saw the disarray and quickly called upon her husband. “Mihnea, the children have finally fed, but on the snakes.” She exclaimed fearfully.

“On the snakes?” he stated inquisitively as he entered the room.

“Vlad!” the couple shouted in unison.

A few minutes passed with no response, yet no answer returned to them. Again they called yet again no answer. Finally out of desperation Mihnea left the room in an attempt to find the lord of the night.

Moments after furious searching, Vlad was found sleeping in the study with a book entitled “Fang the Gnome” By an author of the name of “Michael G Coney” over his eyes.

“Wake up ye old bat! Thou art needed,” shouted an enraged and partially frightened Mihnea

“Call me an old bat again and I will put thou in the iron maiden! Now what is it?” Vlad shouted at the inferior

“Drakan and Draco have fed off the snakes. What should we do?” asked Mihnea

“How about GO AWAY!!!?” Vlad shouts yet again.

Mihnea walks back through the dark corridors of the estate counting the doors he passes subconsciously twenty-seven….twenty-eight….twenty-nine…thir… BOOM! A loud shattering sound entered through the floors above.



CHAPTER 4 MOONLIGHT

“Mihnea come here, I smell vermin,” called Vlad

Suddenly loud shouts emit from the nursery room.

“Mihnea, lycanthropes art invading the house. They are heading to toward the babes,” Voica shrieked.

“Mama naibii catelele,” Vlad and Mihnea swore in unison as they flew up the halls and various corridors on their way to the nursery. As they came to the top floor part of the pack of wolves attacked.

Among the silvery pack of bloodhounds were two leaders.

The alpha leader had a coat of blood red with a pure white chest, eyes of a dark luminous orange. Between its eyes it bears a pentacle of a black outline as if it were branded on moments ago. The lycan’s claws were black, jagged and seemed to be made of obsidian, with a blood stained appearance.

The beta leader had a coat of pure black with mass and multiple symbols of daemonic origin. It had one eye the color completely white with a green iris, and the other completely black with a red iris. On the back of its head it bears the same mark as the others all have a pentacle in the appearance of a burn. The hell spawned canine had claws green from age, scaly giving off the putrid stench of rotting flesh probably from its victims.

“Let’s kill some dogs,” shouted Mihnea as the largest wolf of the pack charged at him.

Teeth bared and stained with its fallen victims’ blood the wolf lunges at Mihnea’s throat. Sensing the move Mihnea stepped away from the nausea inducing jaws. Noticing the movement of its victim the wolf bites down on the nearest thing, which happened to be Mihnea’s left wrist. Clamping tightly the wolf twists and rips Mihnea’s wrist off with a loud crack and a disturbing crunching sound.

Vlad noticing that Mihnea is injured rushes over to him “Need any assistance?” Vlad questions.

Mihnea, now with a broken arm with a limp hand responded “No, don’t want thou to injure thine self,” Mihnea responded back.

Next Mihnea did the unthinkable; he tackled the wolf and went for its jugular artery with his mouth. The wolf, surprised by the move turned its head to bite into Mihnea’s shoulder. That was just the opening Mihnea was waiting for, as soon as the wolf turned his head Mihnea pinned its head down with his broken arm and impaled its neck with his fangs. Rapidly Mihnea began to drink the wolf’s blood.

Almost instantaneously after Mihnea started to drink did his stump of a hand started to bubble and sear sickeningly. Then a gigantuous bubble of gory flesh formed and began to fill with a gelatinous liquid the color of vomit. It began to swell, the innards of it began to swirl and glow then thicken. Within the bubble a silvery stream began to flow then thicken. The silvery liquid then got so hard that when it reached the edge of the bubble it popped and astoundingly there was a skeletal hand.

As soon as the hand formed the vomit colored gel then started to change colors and spread out upon the hand and turns into a rancid pus colored liquid, veins then started to form through the pussy mess. The hand then turned a sickly maroon and started to solidify.

Mihnea stares dumbstruck as skin then starts to form over his hand. Black fur then starts to form over his hand and works its way up his arm till it came to his elbow and stopped

He’s broken arm then started to twist and turn, making cracking and grinding sounds as it bends. A bone then protrudes out of his fleshy forearm. It keeps protruding till eventually the bone comes completely out. The area on which the bone came out of then started to disintegrate to the shoulder.

Mihnea’s chest then began to swell and bulge in the center till an odd shape of an arm formed opposing his shoulder. With a muffled scream the arm torn clean through his chest skin and snapped into place on his shoulder.

The torn skin upon his chest then started to scab up and form sickly scar tissue.

As Mihnea was healing a wolf of the pack attacked, Vlad intercepted it and ripped its heart out faster than the eye can follow.

“Art thou sure thou dosth not need help?” Vlad boasts.

“Can it, ye baboon, don’t need you breaking thine self,” chortled Mihnea.

“Yet thou art the one who is healing, while I killed thy other attacker swiftly. Yet I took no damage.”

The pack of wolves starts to circle their prey. Mihnea and Vlad thou busy conversing and pay no attention to the wolves, as if they thou nonexistent organisms of pure imagination.

The Beta Wolf then attempts to pounce upon Vlad, suddenly Vlad turns around with lighting speed. He plunges his hand deep into the wolfs throat, the wolf sensing danger then clamps its jaws down with such force that it severs through Vlad’s arm leaving a jagged bite wound .

“La Dracu Naibii Morte!” Vlad shouts more out of shock then pain from the wound.

“Primitive bat, thou cannot defeat me. Admit that thou have met thine superior. Bow before my feet and beg for thou life or face a fate far worse than death!” the Beta wolf boasts as it transmorphs into its human form.

Mihnea noticing the peril of the situation runs to the nearest wall and pulls a Katana out of one of the family’s crests.

Mihnea hen charges behind the Lycanthrope and swings the sword at the base of its neck. Instantly the man turns grabs the blade and snaps it in two in one motion.

“Thou honestly thought ye could kill…” Mihnea darts his hand out and rips out the wolf man’s throat while he was talking in mid sentence.

“Thou talk too much ye insufferable pup,” Mihnea taunts as his spits on the body.

“Hand me that sword yonder in thine hand,” Vlad says rather weakly as if life itself was slowly draining out of his body.

“Why cannot get it thousel...” Mihnea starts then looks at the blood leaking out of the wound upon Vlad’s severed arm, and hands over the shattered weapon.

Immediately upon being handed the sword Vlad slices the Wolfman open by slicing from the larynx to the navel then coming back at angles toward each nipple. He reaches in, grabs under the ribs and rips them out by digging his hand into the top of the collar bone and jerking it till it snaps off. With a loud crack the body breaks open, and Vlad removes his severed off ligament from the interior of the furry beast’s innards.

When the limb was free from the beast Vlad realigned the severed off limb into proper place. Next he removes the heart of his fallen adversary from the gory flesh of its remaining chest cavity.

Like a feral animal Vlad gouges carnivorously into the heart with his fangs, feasting feverishly upon the organ his wrist starts to crack, twist and grind to a proper position till the wrists skin heals over it and the bones fuse and solidify.

The alpha wolf starts to bark commands at the pack, half of them all circle Vlad and Mihnea. The other half flees the room with the alpha leader toward the upward floor, near the nursery.

“Dracu la catelele,” Vlad swears as he beheads 5 wolfs with one massive swing of his recently acquired sword.

“Where is Voica?” Mihnea questions worriedly.

“What a stupid question, she is in the nursery, dimwit,” Vlad teases

“Dimwit? Art not thou the one that shoved thou arm into a wolf’s mouth knowing it shall bite thou arm off?” Mihnea counters.

A loud scream of terror emits from the upper floor.

“What the hell?” Mihnea shouts as he slowly starts to give a way to his starving rage and thirst for blood. Recklessly Mihnea charges at the pack encircling them, with lightning reflexes he took on and bested twelve of the twenty-four lycanthropes. He would have killed them all if Vlad had not stopped his rage.

Speedily Vlad mentally connects with Mihnea stopping this deadly rampage in its tracks.

“Why father, dosth thou not want them dead?” Mihnea inquires.

“Yes we need them dead, but tis my turn,” Vlad cackles manically, emphasizing on the my in his phrase.

With a speed unmatched in the history of time and shan’t be for many a year to come, Vlad removes a blade from his bag and charges at the remaining twelve killing them all in minimal time.

The remaining leader feeling the deaths of his pack fall heavily upon his shoulders spoke.

“Please I beg of thee let me leave in peace and I shall not return nor shall my clan till the day of my death,” pleads the leader in a gruff horse voice of pain and sufferance.

“Leave now, before logic enters our brains and we feast upon thou soul!” Vlad shouts fighting back the urge to rips his throat out via his nose.

Upon the utterance of those words the lycanthrope jumps out a window fifty feet to its left.

“Why have thou let them escape?” Voica ponders aloud as Mihnea and Vlad enter the nursery.

“There has been enough bloodshed for one day; life is but a rose in the winter, if abused it will wilt and die, but if sheltered and cherished it shall live immortally and blossom into a truly beautiful plant,” explains Vlad “If I were to kill him it would be like killing a beautiful thing before it has time to show its true nature to this world.”

“How art the little runts of thine?” Vlad teases as he walks to their cribs.

Vlad reaches in and picks up the cooing Draco; as soon as Draco touched the blood upon his grandfather’s robe then his face writhed with pain he screams out a cry of great suffering and pain.

Almost instantaneously Vlad placed Draco down back into the crib.

Upon the crib Draco starts to grow muscular more than a baby should be then his skin starts to tint red and he starts to grow more and more hairy. Teeth elongate out of his jaws.

As soon at Vlad notices the changes he takes off his family crest ring from around his neck and places the silver ring over Draco’s heart. Almost instantly Draco makes an animalistic cry of torture as his skin returns to normal and the hair upon his body retreats back into his skin.

Vlad then looks over the baby and spots a strange mark on the heel of his left foot, a black pentagram the sign of a werewolf. As soon as he saw that he picked up Drakan, and a similar thing happened: the screams of pain, the muscularity the teeth, but no hair. As he looked for the symbol he found a slightly fainter red pentagram on his left hand.

“La Dracu!” Vlad curses upon the sight of the foul symbols. “They are infected, but there is no bite scar, and they have not died,” Vlad declared fearfully.





CHAPTER 5: DEATH’S REQUIM

Five years later…….

“Mamica Mi-e foame!” cried out Draco in starvation having not eaten in half a week. “Ma prea mamica,” agreed Drakan in equal starvation battleing that of his brothers.

“Lenes baietei,” Voica taunts playfully at the young vamplings for their idiotic pestering.

“But we are hungry!” they exclaimed again in English.

“Then eat if thou art so hungry.” Voica retorted.

“We have no food to eat, feed us,” the babes begged.

“Then hunt for it, and quench that ravenous demon of a thirst thou both have. Thou Vampires aren’t thy little brats?” torted Voica at the vamplings.

“Roba veni aici” Voica called to a young maid of an occult origin now a mind slave to the family.

The maid was assigned to be a nurse maid for the babies. She walks into the room, dressed in black fishnet stockings torn in multiple places, long waist long blood red hair seemingly fluttering at her waist, two inches above the seams of her black frilly dress. With white frills at the seams the dress mostly black seamed as a whore’s outfit, the waist constricted in black lace. The bust of the fair maid pushed up by the tight corset around her bosom defining the curves of her perfect body and exposing the top of her breasts and pushing them together so much that if she were to bend over she would unintentionally expose herself, causing the room to coo in joy of the sudden exposure of indecency.

“Take these demoni out to feed to the town,” orders Voica to the wench.

The maid then takes the young vamplings out of the castle into the dark landscape that is Wallachia, Romania the frosted peaks of the Carpathians twinkle in the faint light provided by the full moon out above their heads, the cold wind hit them to the face as a wave of ice . They advanced forward toward the city, but since the maid is but a mere mortal slave she cannot fly so they were forced to walk.

On their walk the nursemaid removed a black Damascus dagger with a white edge from her chastity belt. She takes the weapon brings it to the soft flesh of her palm and begins to carve a goat headed pentagram into its flesh. After carving the subliminal mark she started carving in symbols of satanic origins, t’was clear now, the wench was performing a satanic ritual.

As they reach the entrance to the town the beautiful maid now seemed even more attractive to all that sees her, enticing all who see her to make love with her.

“Prea Satana, Belzebut, Azazel, Astaroth, Burfomet Jur sufletul meu la tine pentru darul de noapte,” the maid chants as the laceration she self inflicted disappear from site.

“Time to feed, young ones or thou food shall run away into the night,” the satanistic maid taunts.

“Catea în cazul în care este alimente dracului,” the boys respond bluntly to the maid.

The maid then knocks on the nearest house door and waits for a response from the owner. Moments later a mid-aged man yells through the door.

“Be thou mortal or be thou devil’s concubine?” questions the mid-aged man.

“I be a mortal now open thine door,” cried the maid.

“And if I shan’t?”

“In the name of Prince Vlad open thou door, his grand children are in need of food. Bid us entrance, or face the penalty of death for treason.”

At that the mid aged man opened his worn down shack of a house, at the moment he laid his eyes upon the maid he cursed heavily and slammed the door shut before anyone could do anything.

“Ticalosul murdare,” the maid swore aloud as she starts chanting a blast spell.

The door crashes in seconds before she finishes the spell. At the end of the spell the maid falls to the ground in agony as the children held her.

“Remove the silver thou art wearing, tis burning me and reducing my powers,” the maid pleads to the young ones.

“And if we shan’t?”

“Then thou shall not feast upon the blood of man tonight, but of animal of rabid rancid origins, they ye shall puke up the putrid liquid of dead blood and be bed ridden for many a day. Till eventually thine inside will dissolve into mush and ye shall die.”

At that moment a citizen of Wallachia came running down the cold stone road, with eyes of fear he ran continuously.

The man, a giant of a man stood tall, blonde hair of shoulder length, extremely muscular with a perfect figure, with eyes as blue as the sky and skin fairest in all the land.

The eye of death t’was upon him, ever running in infinite fear he continued on, spotting the group containing a beautiful maid and to little kids he approached quietly.

“Good day fair lady, dosth thou need any help?” the clueless citizen asks.

“Yes, in fact we are in need of assistance, could thou lead us to Castle Dracul?”

“Castle Dracul? Ye have business with the prince?”

“Why else should we need go?”

“I shall lead thou then,”

The painful journey continued for nearly 3 hours, during which Drakan starts to experience hunger pains from his lack of substance within his digestive track. Shortly afterwards the same identical thing happens to Draco, tis a harbinger of hunger.

“Sclava, My stomach tis screaming like razors on flesh, I need to feed now,” complains a starving Drakan.

“Ye time to feed shall be imminent, have patience little one ye shall eat at thine castle, until then ensue with thou hunger.”

“Târfa I hunger as well,” states Draco.

“Patience is key to thou goals, without it time would be useless, it is by itself.

Through the remainder time spent journeying through the vast multiple roads; the group came upon many a gathering of rodent sized mammals that would pose barely a snack for the young vampires. Atlas the travelers reach the base of the Carpathian Appalachians. They came upon a herd of goat-like animals’ ranging from two to three feet in length, slightly curled horns of the size of one’s pinky finger. They have a fur coat of rich chocolate brown, a white face with black stripes littering below their eyes; a snow white back with black dorsal strips.

“Uite curva, sa o capra neagr, can we eat it?” ask the young ones in unison.

“Go ahead, thou ignorant youth deserves a snack, even if thou dinner is less than half an hour from now,” taunted the witch, now incisively flirting with the clueless and confused traveler.

Shadows blind the earth as it is covered and hidden by the pitch black glittering quilt of the midnight sky, daring the sun to peak through the deathly shade, the hissing of the cooling wind on the hot lands is deafening to the ears. Twas decided, the young vampires shall feed upon on the flesh of the chamois, and their blood shall be spilled upon the cold cruel earth.

“On the count of three we shall take to the sky, unu… doi… trei…” as they reached the third numeral they took off into the sky under the cloak of shadows to hide them from their prey

The animals see only the sparkling gems above reflected in the trickling streams as they drink. Suddenly two of the stars disappear quicker than the eye can see and the clutches of the vampires at their tender throat. The vampires drink to the toast of death, the victor.

The struggle to survive vs. the struggle to feast makes up the dance of death. The moaning and crying is the song of consumption. The feeding and the pleasure are the symphonic notes of satisfaction. Death has caused the herd to suffer mass and multiple losses from the bloodthirsty vampiric slaughter.

“Art thou done playing yet? If thou art we must hurry to thine abode,” cackled the Witch in mid flirt.

The remainder of the journey was dull and uninteresting, then finally after an hour and a half of walking, they reached Castle Dracul.

“At last, young maid, we have reached our designation, now shall thou entrust me with thine reason for seeking the prince? Or my it be none of my concern?” questions the man aloud

“It is your business and it involves thou intellect and physical fitness, if thou will accompany me into thither castle?”

“Twill be my pleasure, lady,”

As soon as they enter the castle Vlad enters as if he were planning their entrance at that exact same time.

“Welcome to my humble abode stranger, or should I say brother? After all of these years and finally thou show thine ugly Islam traitor’s face inflicting my family with thou putrid features Radu?”

“I come to make peace, I want my brother back , but I’ll need his help to achieve this goal of honesty, by trusting his brother,” spoke Radu

“I have no brother, he died when we were kidnapped as kids, anything remaining of him is just a brainwashed buffoon, who knows nothing of his fallen family and of their murderers,” announced Vlad

At that Radu notices the family crest hanging around Draco’s neck on metal chain.

“See this crest?” Radu starts as he reaches for the family crest.

“No!” Vlad Shouts in disarray.

Draco pushes Radu’s hand away with his left hand but misses, unintentionally revealing the wolf head pentagram upon his palm. Radu notices it a moment to late as soon as he pulled the crest off of Draco’s neck Draco started to scream in agonizing pain as if razors were lacerating his flesh inch by inch, millimeter by millimeter, fur starts to spout out over all of his body, his nails elongate to six inch talons black in color. Draco falls to the ground and goes into a stress resulted seizure. Suddenly his body stiffened, his eyes literally turned red with bloodlust, he started to transform into some sort of demented creature that had the appearance of a werewolf, just more deadly. Its skin was as pale as the full moon on a winter night, but as dark as the eternal void. Its face was perfectly proportioned: then came its other freakish features, like its teeth. It was not like any other species discovered. It had four extremely sharp teeth, two of which were hyper elongated, the rest of its teeth were canine-like teeth, sharp enough to rip flesh from bone.

“What hast thou done? Now we shall all die you imbecile!” Vlad shouts as Radu’s face freezes in terror as he watches his nephew transform into such a metamorphic abomination.

Flabbergasted, Radu slowly approaches Draco’s repugnant physical altered being with the intention to replace the crest he snatched off. A sickeningly, ravenous repercussiating sound emitted from Draco’s mouth; the sound reverberates in multiple short bursts of varied length. The utterances have a melancholy reminisce of sadistic mannerisms. The grunting Din grows more rapid and forceful. He was laughing. Radu finally reaches distant to the place the sliver crest upon Draco’s cowl; he attempts to do so with what appears to be a tackle-like movement forcing his hand holding the crest over Draco’s neck, The second the crest lands upon Draco, the silver melted and fused with his flesh in a searing foul smell.



Instantly the flesh then begins to alter cold bubbling and oozing rancid a brown, puss-colored eminence; like when one would pour salt upon a slug. Draco screams in pain and grabs at Radu’s hand the second it hops the crest. Radu’s eyes open wide and only one thing can be seen within them. The one thing which is present within all who gaze upon Draco, mortal fear, a blood raged grin spreads across his deranged face; a trickle of blood begins to stream out of the left corner of his mouth. A vein pulsates ravishly upon Draco’s left temple.

Draco jerks Radu’s hand in a counter-clockwise turn. A loud grotesque snapping sound is heard echoing through the castle halls, as if the castle itself were enjoying this exertion of sadism. Vlad, Mihnea, and Vocia are frightened into paralysis from the display and stand pale in the face, hands over their mouths in shock at the monster Draco had become.

Draco twists again harder this time. A sickly grinding sound is heard. Momentarily afterwards an ever distinguishable sound is heard; the sound of blood splashing upon the floor. Everyone flinches as Radu’s pain-stricken shouts roar abroad; everyone but Draco. Draco roars pain having his sensitive hearing harmed by Radu’s wailing in and out of reflexes to the noise Draco grabs Radu’s forearm, bending it in a right angle toward his body, snapping the bone instantly. The bone juts out two inches above his elbow. Draco seizes the bone and rips it from the flesh, the same way one would eat a drumstick from a chicken. Draco next rams the bone into Radu’s head via his left eye. Once Draco removes the bone, blood begins to gush outward. Draco coos gleefully at his creation and begins to drink from the blood fountain greedily.



Meanwhile, Mihnea, Vocia, and Drakam head toward the exit. Upon reaching it they look back wondering as to where Vlad had gone. Then all had become obvious when they saw him creeping up silently behind Draco.

Radu’s screams of pain begin to lesson in volume as bits of his brains and the majority of his blood empties from his body. He would have been dead by now had he have been of mortal blood. Draco opens his mouth widely and then clamps down upon the throat of the utterly defenseless Radu. Blood strongly flows upon Draco’s nose. He couldn’t pick up upon the scent of Vlad sneaking up behind him. Nor could he hear Vlad for the sound of bones cracking under the strength of Draco’s powerful jaws.

Vlad unsheathes the cursed katana. It’s ever changing blade glinting and shining as the blade alters from the eternal black to a brilliantly dazzling emerald green. As Vlade is about to decapitate his grandson, Draco looks up and sees his family inching toward the door, but to him they looked like just another meal. Draco bolts toward them just as Vlad swings the accursed blade narrowly missing Draco’s neck, but instead cutting a few of his hairs off the back of his neck.

“Run!” shouts the Voice of Vlad, if only it were sooner; for young Draco was already upon his mother Vocia. Her screams came forth even louder than those of Radu. In an instant it was done. Vocia’s lifeless body slumped against Draco’s repugnance. One moment her being was whole, paled in her death stare. The next, Draco ripped flesh and bone asunder.

Mihnea mourns aloud the death of his wife. In an instant he stands tall calloused against this sickeningly sadistic reality. Mihnea reaches into the folds of his cloak. It reappears moments later holding a dagger measuring roughly thirteen inches from hilt to tip.

Draco charges with the intent to kill.