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“No man knows till he has suffered from the night
how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.”
― Jonathan Harker
Below, you will find an extensive collection of lore considered canon to my roleplay story and world. It is influenced by, inspired by, and taken from various works of fiction as well as real life, including history and current events etc. It is continuously being worked on, updated and refined, containing a compendium of the World of Vampires as a whole and even beyond, including: Characters, History, Politics, Culture, Wars -- and more.
The corruption of the Night awaits, and you are more than welcome to partake in it... or become part of it.
VAMPIRE CHARACTERS
The Brides│Virgiliu Dracula│Mircea Dracula│Erzsébet Báthory│Bruno Ikarov││Petar Blagojević│Lady Eleanor│Kakistos
Robin Harker│Jayden Thornley│Countess Dolingen│Maria Goodwin│Robert Hensworth│Karl Lueger│Max│Lord Ezekiel
Agmundr│Camilla Romanescu│Marie Anette Carlisle│Nicholas Carlisle│Javier Crueza│Pavel Marlow │Andrei Ambrožič│
Mama Elaganza││Deiderich Kraus│Nathaniel Renwick│Jelena Santiago│Bahir Pasha│Caelan│Barnabáš│The Father│
Érebos││Frank the vagabond│Balthazar│Katarina Dufwa││
HUMAN CHARACTERS
Abraham Van Helsing│Jonathan Harker│Mina Harker│Lucy Westenra│Quincey P. Morris│Arthur Holmwood│Dr John Seward
R.M. Renfield│Steiner Leichtenberg│Ralph the taxi driver│Giovanni Agosti│Anderson│Rebecca Harris││Maddox
Romenduz Tavala│Doomsayer│Valeri Dojstov│Abraham Sullivan│David Sullivan│Blair O'Connor│Mother Anna│
Heliga Birgitta│
OTHER CHARACTERS
The Dread Doctors│Zoltan│The Wendigo of Castle Dracula│La bête du Gévaudan│Oliver Harker│Synova│Timothy Holmes│
Anna Darvolya││
LOCATIONS WITHIN THE WORLD - VAMPIRE, HUMAN, OTHER SUPERNATURAL
Castle Dracula│The Carpathian Mountains│The Village│Carfax Abbey│Seward's Sanitarium││
The Tavala Village││The City of Enoch││Tomb of Thanatos
Abandoned Building│ │Virgil's mansion │Robin's house│Dracula's Mansions
المدينة الغارقة (almadinat alghariqa, or The Sunken City │
│││
THE WORLD OF VAMPIRES
The Traditions│The Vampire Hierarchy│The Masquerade│Domains│Hunting Grounds│Communication amongst the Undead│
Pax Inmortuae│The War of Ages│Lexicon of the Dead│The Modern Night│The Ancients│The Generation Theory
The Embrace│The Beast Within│Final Death│Blood Bond │Blights│Thrall│Vampire Hunters
Humans loyal to Dracula│The Demeter │The Ichor│Foul Rituals and Dark Beginnings│Romanian Treasure│Antediluvian│
VAMPIRE ORGANISATIONS
The Societas Immortalium│The Sabbat│The Anarch Movement│Malakut│
Children of Caine│The Eye││ │││The Order││
The Night Children││││
THE WORLD OF HUMANS
Humanity and the Supernatural││Vampire Hunters│Faith│True Faith│The Second Inquisition││
HUMAN ORGANISATIONS
The Department of Paranormal Activities│The Holy Order of Saint Michael 'The Inquisition'│The Van Helsing Association│
The Arthur Initiative│The Coalition against Dracula│The Holmwood Family│The Harker Family
The Company of Three│The Church of Father's Glory│ The Hunter Society│The Order of the Dragon│
THE WORLD OF THE SUPERNATURAL
OTHER SUPERNATURAL ORGANISATIONS
The Vampires of the East 'Jiangshi'││
EVENTS IN THE WORLD - VAMPIRE, HUMAN, AND OTHER SUPERNATURAL
Concordia Immortalium│Failed London Takeover│The Blood Feud
Dracula's absence │The hunt for the Heartstone
OBJECTS -VAMPIRE, HUMAN, AND OTHER SUPERNATURAL
The sword of Dracul│Dragon key│The Dracul family ring│De Dödas Huvudbonad (Crown of the Dead)│
Quincey's kukri knife│Staff of Ra│Heart Stone│Mysterious box│Seal of Dracul│Bram Stoker's Dracula novel│ │
│Love letter to Timothy│Robin's gun│Malum Praesidium││
MISCELLANEOUS LORE
Comments
“Believe me, I know. As ridiculous as it sounds, this actually happened, and she was real. If I remember right, it was some sort of experiment from the higher-ups to see how women would fare in helping operate vehicles.” Just the thought of it made him shake his head lightly, curving the corners of his lips into a light smile. “But somehow, she proved her worth to the crew, though Steelheart’s driver never doubted her.”
That question made his current expression die down, almost as if its fate bothered him personally. It took a good few seconds for him to exhale and answer his question. “In their last mission, they were tasked with besieging a laboratory where the Germans had been creating some ground-breaking technology and weapons, things that could turn the tide of war.”
Glancing back to the tank, he’d continue. “They and several others managed to break through and take that lab. Inside they found something called a stasis bomb… Fearing it would go off after hearing a ticking sound, it didn’t take long for an enemy airship to show up, along with attack planes. Sylvia decided to man an anti-air gun so her crewmates could escape with that thing, their driver witnessed it happen. She managed to blast and set fire to that airship, at the cost of her own life when a few explosives came down on her position. Not long after, the bomb went off… And none lived to tell the tale. Most of their bodies were never recovered.”
Strangely enough, the brunette knew an incredible amount of detail about that story, and this was only a summary. At the same time, his eyes almost became watery when he started feeling a lump in his throat. Don’t get emotional in front of this man or he’ll stare at you weirdly.
When an exchange of names was offered, the young man accepted it by turning to hold out his own hand. “Abraham, Abe for short.” He’d say, introducing himself without hesitation as his smile returned. If Robin took it or not, Abe had a question for him after.
“What do you do for a living by the way?”
"Is that so?"
She listened to the behemoth explain that the ship belonged to him. What he said was true, but Maleficent was in charge here. Make no mistake; she was going to get what she wanted. If the captain did not do what she said, Maleficent fully intended on setting the ship ablaze and watching it sink to the bottom of the ocean. This journey had already wasted enough of her time. She was beginning to contemplate if the elder vampire was even worth her time.
"You will not give me orders. Attempt to do so again and I will destroy this vessel."
Maleficent could change her location whenever she wanted. When he suggested she move below deck, Maleficent shook her head in disapproval. "I will remain up here until we reach the shore." She already had an assortment of questions for Vlad. The villainess was naturally curious about the cargo being loaded on board, but she decided not to ask. The crew was being incredibly secretive. The imbecile of a captain would probably tell her that it was none of her business.
Zach dreams, but not a single memory of it remains when he breaks back into consciousness. The first thing he notes is that his head hurts. Like, a lot. He groans in protest of his own predicament, but when he has the strength to squint through the light filtering into the room, he is relieved to see he has found his way back home. He sighs loudly, settling his body heavily into the mattress. Seconds drift by and Zach feels the tension leave his muscles, and although his head is pounding and his mouth is dry, he thinks he might fall asleep again. Distantly, he wishes he had remembered to close the curtains the night before so that the light wouldn't sting his eyes. Last night, he remembers, he had come in and all but collapsed on his bed, offered Timo-- Timothy.
Zach throws himself upright, head snapping toward the comforting source of heat in his bed. His gaze falls upon Timothy, a vague sense of recognition returning to Zach. Then, he notices Timothy is naked. Shock takes over Zach's features before he glances at his own bare chest with nothing short of a blush spreading wide across his cheeks. While he cannot recall anything indecent occurring, Zach knows he drank more than he should have. Maybe he's not all that great at math, but.. something is not adding up here.
Suddenly, Timothy opens his eyes while Zach is staring down at him with his mouth open. He promptly closes it and squeezes a fist at the blankets gathering at his waist as if to pull it closer to himself. "Um," he starts, eyes shifting elsewhere in the room, "good morning." Zach praises himself for the evenness of his voice. He could make do without the raspiness from using his voice when he hadn't for a short while. To that remedy that, he clears his throat and tries again, voice clearer this time. "Are you hungry? Usually, I make breakfast but my head hurts. There's a cafe close by."
Wait, did that sound like a date?!
Zach cringes internally while looking pointedly at the wall opposite his bed, decidedly NOT in the direction of a very naked Timothy. Zach's mind is raging war over the scene he has woken to, wondering if he'd gone and taken advantage of Timothy the night before. Perhaps he should apologize, or maybe he's assuming too much. First things first, he needs to figure out exactly what happened after they returned here. They talked a little, Zach offered the bed... he stripped off his clothes. Oh no.
The bottle of water on his nightstand is looking awfully inviting - Zach all but snatches it from where it sits and takes a few mouthfuls. Thirst somewhat quenched, he begins to slide out from his bed and is relieved to see he had enough sense to put on some pants before sleeping. So then... why was Timothy naked? Maybe nothing had happened, after all. Zach gives his body a few good stretches, earning a pop or two from his joints. "Do you like coffee?" He asks after a particularly loud crack sounds from his shoulder that makes him wince.
His flashbacks into the past were cut off by another man's words, inquiring about his own well being. He almost shook himself out of it when that same gentleman came close, turning aside to face him.
"Y-yeah, just admiring it." That was a straight up lie, for he was in deep thought until this stranger came along. It was at that moment where Abraham decided to share a war story: His own, but without making it known that it was he who participated in such, just to avoid accidentally revealing, not like this man would believe him anyway without proof.
"My great grandpa fought in one of those, he was the driver. It's not a story you'd find in any history books. His crew nicknamed their landship 'Steelheart', it was a Mark Five. As controversial as it was, they had a lady in their grew as one of the gunners, a young woman named Sylvia, most of whom doubted her at first. Mose, their commander, Desmond, another gunner, Vladimir, also a gunner, Dillon, Charlie, and Isaac."
It was slightly odd for someone to memorize the names of an entire crew, maybe that's just how well versed he is in Robin's mind. His gaze had long since returned to the armored vehicle in front of them.
"Only three of them ever made it out alive, somewhat. Their final battle was the worst they had ever seen."
Perhaps said undead male could ask him about the fate of Steelheart, and the rest of its crew.
;; -- The night rose and curled her darkened wings about the earth. Shadows danced upon the walls in her praise -- they slithered up the cracks and crevices of the cobblestone surroundings and licked up all remaining traces of light until the entire premises was strewn with a vision of black.
A serene and ominous atmosphere seemed to settle around the quiet vicinity as a foreigner graced the vacant corridors of the streets. Smoothly and so boldly, the shaded figure trotted alongside the dark, cold walls of the aligned establishments. The creature advanced in solitude and secrecy beneath the eyes and hushed whispers of wayward street rats and literal rats alike.
A Fox it was; a peculiar animal to be caught in an area like this. Were they not kin of the woods? Brethren of the earth? And yet, here he was; wandering about the transverse jungles of pavement, cold stone and street lights as if this godforsaken city was his natural habitat. Tendrils of the frigid nightly air sifted her willowy fingers through strands of inky black, caressing the strangely-structured pelt which was currently compacted into physical fur.
Unwelcoming; that was the impression that stalked him throughout this area. A heavy feeling of decay and corruption could be detected from somewhere around here. Such a feeling was an overwhelmingly importunate companion that threatened to swallow him over every turn; and that feeling was exactly what drew him here to begin with. The fox halted his pace and raised his head, allowing misty breath to pool from hinged jowls as he tasted the air about him.
There. It was coming from over there. The fox picked up his pace towards the potential source of the vile auras, then hopped up onto a stone wall in sight of the building.
No movement was visually detected from where he was perched. Curiosity then took liberty to tug at his interior, therefore stimulating a short-lived bark to erupt from the depths of the creature’s chest. Synova allowed the raspy noise to bound off the polluted stonework, ensuring it echoed as far as this maze allowed it. The vulpine’s erect ears twitched at every sound as he awaited a further response.
The distant rumble of thunder was the only noise that voiced a greeting to his call. Content to find no immediate nuisance snapping down on his spine in return, the fox emitted a quiet grunt and proceeded to stride casually along the top of the wall. He made no attempt to hide his presence from whatever evil lurked within, yet every nerve in his body was on high alert for even the slightest shift --;;
-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.
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