“Once again...welcome to my house.

Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring.







58adf6e79e84144f658d26a6adc99bd6 by SwedishGreenGoblin

6960374 By Swedishgreengoblin-db96hl7 by SwedishGreenGoblin

43d6b9e8c5f07a30817fe5c312130520c0f67444 Hq by SwedishGreenGoblin

58adf6e79e84144f658d26a6adc99bd6 by SwedishGreenGoblin


58adf6e79e84144f658d26a6adc99bd6 by SwedishGreenGoblin



places │objects│characters │organizations│other



Abraham Van HelsingJonathan HarkerMina HarkerThe BridesRenfield

Dr. John Seward│ Quincey Morris│Arthur Holmwood│ Bruno Ikarov The Dread DoctorsKakistos

Erzsébet BáthoryVirgiliu DraculaNicholas CarlisleMarie Anette CarlisleNathaniel Renwick

Mircea Dracula│ MalphasAdela Maria GoodwinRobert HensworthKarl LuegerLa bête du Gévauda│

Javier CruezaCountess Dolingen


Castle DraculaThe Carpathian MountainsTomb of ThanatosThe VillageCarfax AbbeySeward's Sanitarium

Báthory Castle
The Taval
Mines and Village│The harbour of Ville Bleue (Blue City)│The Kingdom of the Undying

Abandoned Building│The Construction Site │Virgil's mansion │Robin's house│Dracula's Mansions
المدينة الغارقة (almadinat alghariqa, or The Sunken City │


The sword of DraculDragon keythe Dracul family ringDe Dödas Huvudbonad (Crown of the Dead)

Quincey's khukri knife




The Order of the Dragon The Order The Van Helsing Association │The Undying│The Network

The coaliton against Dracula │The Eye│Blood Hunters│The Department of Paranormal Activities 'DPA'

The Pure│The Order of Trinity



The Demeter Final DeathThe Ichor DomainVampire LordThe TraditionsHumans loyal to Dracula










"Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer--both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams. Yes, her internal turmoil, a war of the mind, it is what makes her into one of the more dangerous adversaries I have faced, thus far. Unpredictable, unrelenting, and completely merciless.

I must take care, lest she foil my plans.”



"There may yet be things, many of the mind, things that he cannot grasp; such as the nature and virtue of patience, and the bountiful reward that can come from restraint. After all ambition is only ever as useful as the person wielding it.

The fall of many of our kind stems from this fatal flaw, yet I did not at all think that it would be the Achilles heel of my own son.

I thought I had done better, that I would not see the past be repeated...

In what hurry are they, they who have centuries ahead of them?"

- Dracula


"I have crossed oceans of time to find this woman. She is alltogether mine, and together we shall walk forevermore.

But even good metal can break when you try to put your might against it, try and bend it.

Nevertheless, what would be left shall serve me, and be mine to use as I so fit."



You men and women are like ropes drawn tight with strain that pull in two different ways. Then tears come, and like the rain on the ropes, they brace it up, until perhaps the strain become too great, and the mind breaks. But King Laugh he come like the sunshine, and he ease off the strain again, and you bear to go on with the labor, what ever it may be.

You, Catherine, you will not be allowed even this for me. I will shut the door for all things good.

You'll be mine, or you will meet back again with the hand that shaped you.

- Dracula









Born doomed, the young Robin Harker was simply destined to become a vampire.

And while he fell in battle, he rose again as a bloodsucking fiend, taking the fall for his mother, unwittingly.


 Portrayed by:  William Moseley









The Kanima is a creature that is not born out of the hard shell of an egg, nor birthed out of the warm comfort of a mother's womb. 
No, the Kanima is created via a number of different ways.
It is in some ways, an abomination.

Underneath the tough reptilian scales however, the soul of Timothy remains.


Portrayed by: Luke Newberry

Photo edit by: this fabulous bean















Driven by Greed, Mircea eventually betrayed his father and set himself on the path of becoming the 'God of Death'.

Ruthless and completely insane, he is determined to bring down Dracula, whatever the cost.

  Portrayed by:   Tyler Hoechlin




I am open to new roleplay threads

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Fantasy, Romance, Violence, Realistic, Rated R, 18+, Gore, Comedy, Action, Adventure

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  • Zach hardly spends any time assessing the strange attire worn by Timothy - after all, his inebriated mind hardly has the ability to see Timothy's facial features without any blurring. As for himself, Zach wears a plain black shirt that fits snug around his broad shoulders paired with dark denim jeans. The sleeves of a thin button-up plaid shirt are tied in a neat knot around Zach's waist and on his feet are a pair of pricey air-force sneakers. To the ordinary person, Zach is dressed rather plainly.

    While Timothy musters up a response - ah, British accent? - Zach sniffs hard then swipes the back of his hand across his nose. He stumbles a couple of steps forward, further shortening the distance that remains between them.

    "Kaiser?" Zach parrots, his head tilting.

    "I don't know what a Kaiser is, but you're on Elm Street, dude. Ar'ya from the college?"

    He steps toward Timothy some more.

    "Come with me!" Zach declares in a too-loud voice, his hand coming down to clap onto Timothy's shoulder. At such a distance, the scent of alcohol is sharp on Zach's breath. Oblivious, Zach cozies up closer to Timothy by sliding his hand across the other's shoulder, beyond the back of his neck, and settles around the opposite shoulder, effectively yanking Timothy flush against his side. Zach uses his free hand to point off into the distance.

    "I'm headin' back to school," he begins, "don' wanna be here anyway, so come! Come with me - let's drink more?" Maybe not a good suggestion, but there is an insistent look in Zach's eyes that says he won't take no for an answer.

    "I'm Zach by the way," he offers as a lazy but friendly smile works its way on his lips. 

  • The football has left Zach's fingertips and falls with a graceless wobble against an old wooden fence. It bounces down onto a freshly mowed lawn while Zach stares forward. In his silent rumination, a gentle approach of footsteps earns Zach's attention and he slowly twists to meet Timothy's gaze. Upon first glance, Zach pegs Timothy to be a few years younger than himself. An assumption based on his smaller stature, youthful face, and general lost-looking gaze in his eyes.

    "Um," Zach starts, feeling a little dumbfounded.

    "Hello?" While it isn't a greeting that is sure to leave a lasting impression, Zach wasn't expecting to stumble upon a stranger in the middle of the night here in the suburbs. In fact, it is even odd for Zach to address the stranger at all, but something in the way Timothy moves reminds Zach of a lost puppy. He's not the type to ignore such a type of person.

    Zach stumbles on the edge of the curb when he twists his body to better face Timothy and struggles to fight against gravity. Once balanced again, he straightens his back and clears his throat loudly. 

    "Are you lost?" He asks, a slur in his words. 

    "I, uh..," Zach squints and looks up and down the street to get his bearings, then twists to glance back at the other, "don't know if I can help you."

  • Patience Maleficent, patience.

    Staying calm, in irksome situations like this, was next to impossible for Maleficent. What had happened to the crew? The storm was strong, but strong enough to pull each member of the crew into the water? There was something wrong here, and Maleficent intended to find out exactly what was going on. Her patience was gone, and she considered throwing the captain into the ocean as well. Putting an end to this vexing vacation crossed Maleficent's mind yet again as she heard the captain speak. The creatures on the other vessel did not interest her, but she had no intention of going below deck. This was her ship. The entire vessel could vanish with a snap of her fingers. Make no mistake, she was in charge here.

    "Not for my eyes? You forget, this is my ship. I will not be going below deck."

    She noticed the box clad in iron chains that the creatures were dragging on board. "What is this nonsense?" The wicked woman's grip on her staff tightened. If she did not get answers quickly, there would be hell to pay.

  • Zach turns the football over in his hands. He sits perched on the curb of an empty street and wills his drunken gaze to focus on the finer details on the ball. The stitching has begun to fray; it’s true that the ball has seen better days. But each flaw etched on the ball is a reminder of the countless times Zach had used it. He closes his eyes to remember those summer days he’d spend playing on the front lawn. Instead, his head just spins something viscous and he is forced to open them lest he hunches forward to vomit.

    “Fuck,” his voice is low, not intent on being heard by another.

    Slowly, Zach lifts the football against his forehead and heaves in a deep sigh. What compelled him to come here is beyond him. It was supposed to be a fun night with a few friends back on campus. A drink with the boys, they said. Zach was happy to agree. If he knew the whiskey would dampen his mood, he might’ve turned them down.

    So here he is. Pissed out of his mind and parked up on the street adjacent to his parents’ house sulking over old memories. Just when he begins to wonder why his parents couldn’t love him, he shuts the thought down. Ruminating over those things will get him nowhere. Zach hisses in a sharp breath through his teeth and blearily gazes at the familiar home across from him.

    “Fuck you guys…” he slurs, brows pinching in a frown.

    In one fluid motion, he raises to his feet and hefts the football upon his right shoulder. Zach takes a moment to gain control over his motor functions before he throws the ball across the street and into the front yard. He frowns at his terrible aim.

  • His gums started to burn the moment his normally cold blue-- now a glowing bloody red -- eyes touched upon the woman and her predator.  It was a familiar scene to him; one he'd probably seen a hundred times before this night.  But that didn't stop his fangs from bursting free of their fleshy prison to extend and cover his canines completely.   

    His nostrils twitched; his upper lip curled, yet despite the overpowering smell of blood, and what he considered a truly awful waste of good vitae-- sprung from a hundred wounds like tiny red rivers disappeared into the void.  When Anthony fed, he made it a point never to spill a drop.  A truly abnormal quality for a Gangrel, but he was refined by the masters of Elysium.  Sharpened into a true creature of the night-- at least by their standards. 

    A longing gaze followed the flow of crimson, but in a moment it returned to the male in the room.

    Indeed, the shadows that clung to him were only superficial.  A ploy in the mind, rather than a true mastery of Oblivion.  The only darkness he could manipulate was that inside the hearts of those around him, but he was not unique in that field. 

    Another step away from the window and the dark haze surrounding Anthony merely peeled away.  He didn't seem to notice, stopping to lean his hip up against one of the weight machines, he crossed his arms over his chest.  A inky black brow shot up towards the males hairline when Robin adressed him.  You know, before choking on his own meal. 

    A flicker of a smile appeared on the Gangrel's mouth.

    "Me?" He glanced around the room slowly, as if he was only just noticing the bodies after Robin pointed them out.  For a moment, his eyes widen comically-- cold blue again, in the light--, and then his expression reverts to it's usual neutral state. "Nah, I'm on a diet." Patting his flat stomach through his grey hoodie, the neonate's lips peeled away from his teeth in the shape of a teasing smile.  

    "Besides, I rarely even finish one meal so..." He glanced towards one of the drained out bodies. "..so completely." Another smile, this one smaller, thoughtful.  Then the seemingly young man shrugged, his icy eyes slicing through the room to plaster against Robin. "But I'm not judging, trust me.  I've done my fair share of, ehh.. indulging.  Hm.. you do this often?" He couldn't help but be curious. 

    "Oh, I'm Anthony by the way.  Anthony Vane." He didn't extend a hand to shake.




  • Anthony clung to the shadows like a secret, moving along the span of a crumbling brick wall into an alley.  Numerous makeshift shelters had been set up by the few unfortunate souls who called this filthy gash in the world their home.  The alley, not the city.   

    A lump of plastic twitched as he was passing, drawing his eye.  When the lump jerked and rolled over, Anthony realized it was just a man.  An older guy, nursing a bottle of liqour in one hand while he slept, but it's uncapped and the contents were spilling all over the ground beside him.  Tequila, by the smell of it.  Anthony sniffed lightly, peering down at the man's sleeping form with a thoughtful expression. 

    It would have been too easy for the Gangrel to lean over the guy and sink his sharp teeth into the man's throat.  

    Yet without the excitement of the hunt, there'd be no satisfaction in it.  And he'd probably have to feed again in an hour.  And again, and again-- wonder if the city would pay him to rid them of their homeless problem.  But then they'd have a whole other issue to deal with.  Like getting rid of the bodies.

    A sudden crimson glow snatched his attention; the red star reappeared.  No longer in the sky, it floated just out of arms reach, burning as brightly as the sun.  He wanted to shield his eyes from the glow, but fought against the tempation, squinting into the light.  Slowly, he averted his gaze and glanced around the alley to see if anyone else was looking at it.  But no one else seemed to even notice. 

    Gazing back to the red star, he slowly stretched his hand towards it..

    It flashed down the alley before he could touch it and out onto another street.  As fast as a bird in flight; but Anthony threw himself after it with a delighted laugh, breaking away from the shadows to run in the middle of the street.  He made sure to keep his speed near human levels, though.  Even despite the late hour, he knew there were eyes and ears everywhere.  The last thing he needed was to get caught on camera outrunning a car in the middle of the city.  

    The red star zipped across the city, leading Anthony on a merry chase through back alleys and new streets before it came to a sudden stop, hovering over a gym.  It pulsated rythmically like a heart.

    thudthud thudthud thudthud

    With each pulse emitting a halo of red from the star.   Anthony drew closer to the building, but the moment his Adidas' clad foot hit the sidewalk, the red star, that perhaps existed only in his mind, plummeted into the roof of the building and disappeared within, and in an instant the night reclaimed it's city.  

    Yet he was born of it; he did not fear the dark.  He focused his Blood into his eyes, and the world brightened around him as they took on reflective bloody hue.  Nostrils flaring, he pulled at the various scents hanging in the air-- and immediately filtered through the calvacade of less than pleasing human odors to find the blood among them.  Following the scent, he circled around the structure until he came upon an open window some two floors up. 

    Anthony glanced around himself, then he crouched slightly, and launched himself right up to the window.  Mid-air he reached out, snagged the window-sill, drew himself up and rolled so quietly into the room he might as well have weighed less than a feather.  Crouched by the window; the shadows seemed to gather around the Gangrel, so that only his burning crimson eyes are visible through the darkness. 

    "Come out, come out, wherever you are~" Anthony sang softly into the darkness, which seemed to cling to him as he moved away from the window.


  • Anthony stood tall atop the slanted roof of an old apartment building.  Utterly abandoned, the structure had started to crumble-- the entire right side of it had collapsed.  Even the Gangrel's light-foot did little to aleviate the stress on whatever structurally sound pillars that remained-- it creaked and groaned, swayed in the lightest breeze.

    Clad in a grey hoodie, tan color nylon pants with numerous pockets and zippers to boot.  He wore white, high top Adidas on his feet and had rolled his sleeves up, consequently brandishing the gold watch he wore upon his left wrist.  A 300-and-something dollar Regulus.  His medium length hair as usual was left to it's own whismy; a mess of wild inky fire atop his head, flying in the breeze.  And bright blue eyes stared out from a pale, stoic face.    There was a wolven quality to it; to the sharp, fierce angles of his face.  To his ever so slightly down-tilted eyes. 

    It was a rare night for the Gangrel.  One of those rare night where he decided to do something for himself.  Something besides hunting his Sire across the Americas as the ancient Methuselah cut a bloody swath through each and every state.  At the moment, he was stationed in Kansas-- and his Sire was near.  Anthony could feel the creatures blood calling to him; nay, singing to him.  Erratic, chaotic, furious notes.

    Moving towards the edge of the slanted roof-top, the Gangrel closed his eyes and tipped back his head, allowing the lyric-less tempo to swirl around him.  His blood writhed in his veins; his gums began to burn, his throat began to itch, but he ignored his instincts and fell into it.  The blood song.  

    When he reopened his eyes, they were drawn to a searing red star burning within the night sky.  Burning so brightly it seemed to wash out every other lesser mote of light.  So close to the world it seemed like it was hovering right over the city; his face awash in it's crimson glow. 

    At least, that is what his vision allowed him to see.  To the rest of the world; there was no crimson star.  No red light, no ancient, probing song.  These were the facets of his gift.  His curse, a curse beyond common undeath.  And these were the signs that had led him here, to his Sire.  

    But that star was not a symbol of his sire.  He knew that just by looking upon it, by feeling the heat-- the star denoted a forgotten mystery.  Anthony recalled a few years ago, when he'd been much more arrogant, much more bold.  He'd heard the legends of Dracula, and sought the truth behind them.   

    Then, he had come up with nothing. 

    Now, looking upon the red star; his lips stretching into a grin.  Now, it seems, the time has come for old mysteries to be renewed.  With that thought pouring through his mind, the Gangrel took another step forward-- and plummeted from the roof.  A single thunderous heartbeat and vitae pounded through his veins, filling his undead form with strength and vigor.   And he landed some fifteen feet below, crouching slightly to absorb the impact radiating through his being.  In that same instant, he slipped into shadows and began to prowl the city in search of his star, grinning all the while.

  • 8438397255?profile=RESIZE_584x

  • 13766020?profile=RESIZE_400x"They were meant to be and there was no force in the world that was going to stop them from being together. He'd burn the world if he and she could be king and queen over the ashes."

    - Dracula

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