“Once again...welcome to my house.

Come freely. Go safely.

And please leave something of the happiness you bring.

                                                         ― DRACULA






Abraham Van HelsingJonathan HarkerMina HarkerThe BridesRenfield

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

Erzsébet BáthoryVirgiliu DraculaNicholas CarlisleMarie Anette CarlisleNathaniel Renwick

Mircea Dracula│ Malphas Maria GoodwinRobert HensworthKarl LuegerLa bête du Gévaudan│

Javier CruezaCountess DolingenValeri DojstovRalph the taxi driver

Steiner Leichtenberg │Rebecca Harris││││


Castle DraculaThe Carpathian MountainsTomb of ThanatosThe VillageCarfax AbbeySeward's Sanitarium

The Tavala 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 Order of the Dragon The Order The Van Helsing Association │The Hunter societyThe Undying│

The NetworkThe coalition against Dracula │The Eye│The CouncilThe New Dawn

The Department of Paranormal Activities 'DPA' The Pure│The Order of TrinityThe Red Paw

Blood Hunters │The Company of Three


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

Quincey's khukri knifeStaff of RaHeart stoneThe necklace of SybilMysterious boxSeal of Dracul 


The Hundred Year War│Failed London Takeover │ The French Campaign │The Blood Feud

Dracula's absence │The hunt for the Heartstone 


The Demeter Final DeathThe Ichor DomainVampire LordThe TraditionsHumans loyal to Dracula

ThrallAntediluvianBlightsThe Awakening││││







"This -thing- is rather peculiar. I don't know what else to say? It's like a childhood fever dream become reality. 

Who knows what trouble this fox and I will get up to? And with my track record, and this being a literal bloody shadow, well I'm expecting this particular adventure to involve either murder, dark relics, or a trip to an unholy site for evil rituals. But I'm still holding on to hope for this being that one demon or evil creature who just so wishes to stay in and consume ludicrous amounts of chocolate, and watch television.

Who knows?"



“It is not often an opportunity such as this is presented, as when it appears literally on the front side of your homestead.
A boy, an instrument, a broken cello that I shall, I think, put together in due time.
Then, David, you I shall play until you dance to my tune entirely.
You will twist, you will turn, and you will sing my melody now henceforth.”

- 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 one of the more dangerous adversaries I have faced, thus far. Unpredictable, unrelenting, and completely merciless.

I must take care, lest she foils 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 altogether 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."

- Dracula 




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         1895 -Present


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

His mother, while pregnant, had been a victim of Dracula, and he had force-fed her some of his blood.

And while the fiendish King Vampire was supposedly 'destroyed' in the end, his blood remained in her and was passed on to her son, unknowingly.

And so years later during World War I and Robin was called, and fell in battle, he rose again from the dead as a vampire. Thereby he took the fall for his mother, unwittingly.


Now he is one of Dracula's lieutenants, an occasional anti-hero, and a magnet for trouble.


Portrayed by:  William Moseley










         1896 - ?


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 it is created via a number of different ways, as when a magical transformation is interrupted, and a person's soul is confused and lost.

Timothy was one of these lost souls, filled with self hatred, and doubt about his identity. 

And so when he was resurrected by his vampiric lover in World War I, instead he became the Kanima, and he hid himself from the world underneath a tough reptilian skin


Portrayed by: Luke Newberry












1999 - ?


A seemingly average young man from suburban Sweden, Arvid has been thrust into a world which is not his own.

A world that terrifies and confuses him. 

Yet now it is his world also, for better or for worse.

And there may be yet things in his family's past, coming back to haunt him. For in his blood may lie a shocking truth about him.


Portrayed by: Piotr Wasilewski


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  • -rings the doorbell numerous times-





  • Regardless of Timothy's protest to Zach sleeping on the floor, the man is already sliding himself off the edge of the bed. He hardly makes it onto his feet before the feeling of hands against his chest has him sinking back onto the mattress. It dips under his weight and Zach's neck cranes upward to gaze up at Timothy. In such a position, Zach appears rather harmless. Small, even despite being 6"3 when standing. Bewildered, he blinks in silence for a moment as his tired, drunk brain tries to make sense of his room that swirls with his oncoming vertigo. Timothy leaves Zach to stroll back to the vacant comfortable chair before the desk and he watches him.

    Cracking a half-smile, Zach says, "you're not just going to sit there, are you?" And he slides along the edge of his large bed to inch closer to the corner that is more within Timothy's proximity.

    "Would you... need anything?" Timothy asks.

    It's just an innocent question. So then why does Zach's stomach churn like that? He ignores the foreign feeling and shakes his head, sending strands of red hair tousled upon his head in the process. "No, I'm good," he answers easily. Had he not already pre-planned his drunken adventure and set up a large water bottle on the bedside table, he might have asked for a glass right now. Instead, Zach slowly tips to his side making sure to remain facing Timothy, and smiles up at him. Even though they are complete strangers and Zach has all but dragged Timothy here in the confines of his bedroom, Zach does not give an impression of being threatening in any capacity. Rather, he has subtle warm energy similar to rays of sunlight peeking through a canopy of leaves on a summer day. He has been told on one or two occasions that he can be disarmingly friendly.

    Like this, on his side with half of his limbs dangling off the edge of the bed, Zach reaches his fingertips toward Timothy's leg but he does not reach him. Hand hovering, Zach flexes his fingertips slowly and a soft grunt escapes him. "Hey..." he all but whispers as his hand lowers back down, "... you can sleep on the bed if you want."

    No further elaborations are made as Zach sits up abruptly. It makes his head spin but he ignores it in favor of shrugging himself out of his jacket. The hoodie is removed next and with it the layers underneath go too, leaving him shirtless in the room. His jeans come off too and he replaces them with a plain pair of sweatpants before he crawls back into the comfort of his bed, this time on the side further away from Timothy as if to give space. Zach pulls the covers over himself and settles in. It's not long at all before the sound of slow even draws of breath escape him. 

    Behind Timothy, just above the computer monitor, a calendar that reads November 2017 sits on the wall.

  • Timothy's efforts to jostle Zach's memory on this so-called Kaiser goes right over Zach's head. In fact, he's long past even bothering to listen to the other's gentle but seemingly desperate attempts. Had Zach not been drunk, he might've paid more mind. However, in his current state all he can seem to think about is how his stomach feels simultaneously empty and full at the same time - an all too familiar sense that if Zach does not eat something soon, the alcohol sloshing in his guts will soon come back through his throat. He swallows hard, pushing down the sickly feeling, and heavily leans on Timothy in the process of righting his off-kilter stance.

    "Shhh, shhh, shhh," Zach chides as Timothy continues to show signs of distress. Zach even has the gall to flip up his free wrist and push an insistent finger to the other's lips.

    "Let's think tomorrow - no thinking!" He declares, then adds, quieter, "I can't think.."

    When Timothy politely offers a hand for Zach to shake, he first looks at it like he can't quite decide what to do with it. Then, he smiles once more and slides his arm away from Timothy to grab the other's hand in a firm shake. It feels forcibly formal, but Zach's eyes light up nonetheless and his lips curl up in mirth. "Holmes?" He asks, "like the detective dude."

    Though brief and sloppy, introductions are out of the way and Zach takes it upon himself to lead the pair away from the suburban area. What he had described as being in the area turns out to be a sizable journey, after all. Drunk people rarely have a good sense of time, and while the trip back to the university grounds doesn't feel all that long to Zach, it almost takes an hour. There aren't many sights to see, at least for Zach who is used to all the city lights, nightlife, and other shenanigans of the city. For Timothy, on the other hand, it may be overwhelming.

    During the final parts of the journey, Zach has fallen less chatty and walks more briskly than when they began. The slow tick of time means he's feeling less and less drunk by the minute and already a throbbing headache begins to form in his right temple. He plants his two shoes on the grass above a curb and stops abruptly, looking forward at the university grounds. Turning, he looks at Timothy, says nothing, then continues on.

    Eventually they arrive at a large house just shy of the actual campus grounds. There are a few scattered empty bottles of beer, vodka, and whiskey on the front lawn - even a pair of forgotten jeans lay in a heap near the front door. Zach sighs loudly, his heavy footsteps coming to a stop as he leans his forehead against the white-painted front door. His fingers run slowly down his ass, feeling the pockets of his jeans for something - ah, there - and he pulls out a small set of keys. He curses when he misses the lock, tries again, twists, and shoves the door open.

    It is dark and quiet inside, and strangely tidier than the lawn. Zach steps in and turns, sloppily reaching for Timothy's wrist in an attempt to usher the man inside too. If not rejected, Zach continues to hold Timothy's wrist with his fingers wrapped around it as he climbs a flight of stairs. It leads to a long hallway with many doors. They stop at the second door on the right. He shoves the door open, steps inside releases Timothy's wrist, and immediately drops himself onto the large bed in the center.

    Zach's bedroom is by no means messy, but it looks well lived-in. He has a large desk adjacent to the bed he lays on, a computer on top of it with various books strewn in front of a keyboard. Behind the desk is a movie poster of a classic horror film. Next to that, there are photos without frames blu-tacked to the walls that consist of Zach and other people. Friends. Some of the photos look older than others. In one corner is a pile of forgotten laundry, next to that right on the floor is a small whiteboard with names written on it. Chelsea, Sarah, Nelly, and then Craig with multiple scribbles crossed through the latter.

    Although Zach has intended to drink more, he looks rather comfortable. He lays still for a while as he almost forgets he dragged a guest over. When he remembers, he shoves himself back up. Looking sheepish, Zach says, "Hey, uhh... my head kinda hurts so I think I'm gonna sleep." There's a sizable amount of regret in his eyes. He can't even manage to look Timothy in the eye. 

    "But you can totally crash here! My bed is big-" he stops himself, looking at Timothy finally, "I can sleep on the floor if you don't want to share, I don't mind." Zach is already sliding off the end of the bed and standing up. He looks... very embarrassed.

  • Life in the modern age was very different from what Abraham was used to, so much that it felt like a whole other world. For him, it was always a rocky road to adjust, having to reacquire a high school equivalent diploma, catch up to more recent history, learning how to make use of modern technology, lean away from old lingo, and adjust to the different culture that felt so alien to him.

    Very recently, the Crystal Bridges Museum out in Bentonville Arkansas recently expanded itself to include a World War One exhibit, a large one too that held all sorts of artifacts from said conflict. Everything from authentic weapons of that time, to uniforms, defused explosives, random trinkets, a Mark One tank, and many other items.

    Thankfully due to the global pandemic with Covid-Nineteen, there wasn’t going to be as many people present, especially on a weekday. Having heard about this recent expansion through his host of a friend, the still-young veteran decided to go out and see it by himself, even if it were to emotionally compromise him later since many of his brothers in arms were long gone, all except a select few. Sadly he’d be going by himself today since nobody had the time to accompany him.

    Roughly around 3:24 PM was when Abraham arrived, having taken his own vehicle out there: a 2012 Ford Mustang painted in white. All he did from there was roll in, claim a parking spot, then climb out before walking out towards the entrance to pay an entry fee. The only thing that mildly bothered him was having to wear a paper wristband like all other attendees.

    Fortunately for a certain someone, it was overcast weather today, not as many UV rays from the sun.

    . . .

    It was only fifteen or twenty minutes into his visit there while browsing a number of war artifacts, all of which were held in elevated glass displays, usually mounted on walls, or sitting on a white pedestal. He took his time admiring it all, either keeping his arms held back, or crossed in front of his chest. Never before did he anticipate that such common items would be preserved like this someday, and here they were.

    Said location was made up of multiple structures, each one sleek and round in shape, with glass domes over some, sitting on top of a river, along with being surrounded by thick foilage. Unsurprisingly, the interior was just as modern, favoring polished hardwood floors, light gray walls, an easily accessible food court with tables, and round corridors in many spots.

    The twenty-six-year-old veteran eventually made his way into a large room, bigger than the others but with the same hardwood floor, and white interior walls. At its center was an eerily familiar machine: A tank, or a Landship as they used to call it before the word tank became popular as a nickname, far simpler to pronounce in battle. What he found was a Mark I, the first variant which held a sloped roof made from a metal mesh, and long-barreled coastal defense guns, one on each side. Such a brute was painted in a darker sage green color.

    Although it wasn't the same version he used to work with, the brunette stepped closer, stopping right at the scarlet rope surrounding it. Abe had just about froze, remembering how many times they had to climb on the roof for entry.

    Then it hit him: The flashbacks. It was everything from servicing the Mark 5 he was assigned, to helping load ammunition, getting to know his crew, checking for mechanical issues from how frequently they broke down, and- going into action. The memory of being in that driver seat, tugging away at both levers to move such a beast made him zone out. The sounds of lead projectiles thumping against the outer hull was common, combined with the occasional cannons going off, watching those damned Jerries run for it, and getting his crewmates in position to mow them down in trenches. Violence aside, he couldn’t forget how hot the interior could get due to limited ventilation.

    For those seemingly long moments, his back would be facing the open entrance.

  • cat-meow.gif

  • 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.

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D R A C U L A left a comment for Maere
"Take your time, friend. I shall be here for centuries to come. "
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"Yo mom"
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"(So sorry for the long wait. I hope this starter is good enough. If not, or if you just have a…"
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"  1963, 01:34 PM, Cassel Hospital, Richmond, England 
Nothing is ever as cruel as memory can be.…"
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"“Lord Dracula? Or just Dracula; you haven’t heard of him? Huh. Well, blimey.” Robin blinked, brows…"
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"“Lord Dracula? Or just Dracula; you haven’t heard of him? Huh. Well, blimey.” Robin blinked, brows…"
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