🪦 VTUBER . GRAVEYARD QUEEN 🪦

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LORE

Writing Credit: @OsmoGoogie

The year is 1438. Europe is cast in a cloud of darkness and violence. With little to no scientific or cultural advancements, the systems of the world are restricted to religious influence. Political instability has set the tone for a world full of hostility and mistrust in fellow man.Creatures lurk in the shadows. The howls of Werewolves echo through the moonlit sky, the bloodlust of Vampires brings terror to the common man, and the rot and decay of Zombies and Mummies permeates the thick air. Nobody is safe, nobody is trustworthy, and nobody can escape the horrors brought on by Monsters.Amongst this grim scene lives a girl, an unassuming human.Battie Lugosi lost her parents at a very young age. You see, as a newborn, her family had traveled to Europe from their homeland in Mesoamerica. A promise of a better life and better opportunities convinced them to cross the Ocean and start anew. This choice would tragically lead to their undoing. Now, alone in this world without the protection of her parents, Battie had no other family to turn to. With no means of survival, she was brought into the local Convent.Although raised by nuns, she never seemed to fit in or fall in line with the ways of the Church.
This young child was odd….strange….even dark sided. The Nuns would whisper of her strangeness, those whispers echoed through the Cathedral Halls. They had decided that she was not of God, that she must be possessed by some sort of unnamed darkness. However, they kept her and protected her, as their God would want them to do for any child. As the years went on, she became more of an outcast. Battie would try her best to align with the ways and practices of the sisterhood but the macabre was always tugging at her to turn and look the other way. One day, something wicked would wander by that wouldn’t just tug at her morbid curiosity…it would pull her to plunge into the depths of darkness…* * * * * * * *
Count Isaak Friesinger was a Vampire of Ancient Origin. An Elder of sorts with Royal Vampiric Blood coursing through his cold veins. Having walked this Earth for 4200 years, his Station in the Vampiric Court had risen to that of “Count”. This position poised him with the weight of responsibility for the whole of his Species amongst his Country. A weight too heavy, a weight that has dragged him down into a life of misery. A man that once stood tall and proud, the perfect image of Vampiric Royalty and Higher Society.His head now hangs low, his feet fumble and his body sways. Weak and exhausted, his days are drowned by alcohol to stave off his real hunger.For Centuries, Vampires have cultivated a place within society that places themselves above other supernatural beings. A pedestal so high that the likes of Werewolves, Zombies and Ghouls are nothing but the scum of their shoes. These Vampires descended from this ancient and original bloodline, a bloodline as old as the human race itself. They thought so highly of themselves that they had started to abandon their own purpose and cardinal desires. Denying their own Bloodlust in order to present themselves as something akin to the goodness of Gods. A power trip that provided a high stronger than any drop of blood could…..or did they just forget the feeling of hot blood running down their throats?Count Isaak was a prisoner of his own mind, tormented by his own power and station in the world. The hierarchy he helped create was no longer something he stood by. He was tired of the show His kind had to put on just to please Humans. The cost of their power was abandoning who they truly were. Sell their Souls, it was pitiful to him. Issak longed to give in to his needs but always held back, his Station in life was far too comfortable.To speak out against Himself or His Court would undo Him. However, continuing this facade, starving himself, would this not eventually also undo him? His vices were slowly killing him. His body had been starved for far too long and could no longer fight the destruction he was causing himself. Could one even enjoy such a cushy life in such a condition?Count Isaak stood at a crossroads. Both paths were veiled by dark clouds, a clear answer was out of sight. For many years he has stood at this fork in the road, bottle in hand. He was idle and slowly drowning. No matter which direction, the choice would be painful and difficult. It was easier to just avoid moving forward. The cold sting of the alcohol made his body ache for the warmth of blood. It was torment, and it would be his undoing.* * * * * * * *
Tonight it is cold. Tonight it is dark and the rain pours heavily. The violent beating of water against the glass brings Battie a sense of peace. She sits quietly in her room, working on a drawing. The once small girl is now grown. A woman of 30, she still lives in the Convent amongst the Nuns. Pity has kept her here, and she is old enough to know that now. However much they still whisper, there is a routine in how things are done. She maintains a quiet disposition to ensure her own stability, and they keep her at arms length out of fear. To anyone else it would be isolating, and at some point as a young girl, it was for a long time. Now as a grown woman, isolation is solitude, and solitude brings her peace. She has overcome the hate given to her all her life and used it for her own empowerment, finding self love and self acceptance in who she is and enjoying her own company as the nights went on.It is Compline. The hour after sunset, before bed when the Nuns gather together to socialize. With such a heavy storm outside, the air inside is thicker and quieter than normal. Still, the Nuns settle into the comfort and tranquility of their own company, unaware of a different darkness headed their way.Count Isaak Friesinger stumbles across the cobblestone. Soaking wet from rain and liquor. The daily fight of his own torment has finally moved his feet….he has chosen the path to walk down. He has allowed instinct to take over. His nose carries him down the streets of the city. He is unsure why or where it’s leading him as it has been far too long since he was last in touch with his own natural instinct. Still he stumbles, eventually finding himself at a set of large wooden doors. The shadow of a Church is a giant looming over him, lighting flashbangs his blurred vision. He heaves open the door by its iron ring. Has he practically falls over himself through the entrance, his nose burns and his heart pounds. From the gathering hall, the Sisters hear the echo of a door creaking open. They quickly fall silent, the air instead fills with the sideways crashing of heavy rain pooling into the Cathedral. The Entrance Doors are not in eyesight of the Sisters, but God is whispering to them… “There is a Demon at Our Threshold.”It was deep into the night, the storm had been raging for hours now. It had created the perfect background symphony for Battie while she worked away at her desk. The crashing of thunder, the pounding of rain, the howling of a violent wind, and the faintest screams. Screams….”that’s not right…” Whispered Battie under her breath. The sorrowful music of the storm did well to drown out the sounds from within the Church walls, but one desperate outcry was just loud enough to echo through the very stone of the building. Battie had picked up on the strange sound and decided to go seek the source. As the young woman made her way through the dimly lit corridors, a sickly sweet smell began to swell into her nose.As Battie descended towards the Convent's main common area, the source of that smell would finally register in Battie’s mind. “Blood…?” she whispered to herself, more curious than worried. When she rounded that final corner, her eyes would land upon a nightmarish scene.Bloodshed….It was fresh, still dripping slowly down the walls as it coagulated. A few more steps and her eyes would land on the mangled ribbons of a familiar face.
“Sister Mary…”
Battie’s eyes would then dart to the decapitated head of another familiar face.
“Sister Grace…”
As Battie slowly moved through the room, she would take in the massacre, one bloody body part at a time. The thud of her boots would echo through the otherwise deathly silent room. The scene was shocking, disgusting and downright horrific. Though, if one were to observe Battie as she took the scene in, they’d notice a stark lack of emotion from the young woman. Her large, dark pupils darted so much it could almost be mistaken for a twinkle.As she continued to discover the slaughter, her ears would eventually pick up on breathing that was not her own. Though, this was more of an exhausted heaving peppered with guttural growling, Battie knew the source couldn’t be one of the sisters, it almost sounded like an animal. It was then that her eyes fell upon a pile of a man on the floor. He was on his knees, hunched over far enough that his face was hidden. His broad shoulders rising and falling with each desperate gasp for breath. His dark hair was thick with blood, his clothing soaked. There was a large puddle beneath his beastly frame.Battie’s eyes widened at the sight. Not able to see anything but the back of him as he stayed hunched over on the floor, not yet aware of her presence. She couldn’t tell if any of this blood was his own, if he was hurt in any way. In that moment, the destruction and desecration of the life around her faded away and her expression dropped to a deep worry for the man at her feet. She dropped to her knees, landing only a few feet in front of him. Her hand began to reach for him, not quite close enough to make contact. Her head tilted in an attempt to meet his eyes and she spoke out in a soft, gentle voice “Are you alright?”Issak would slowly raise his head as that voice quietly brushed his ears. As his figure lifted, a bloody and disfigured pile of remains were revealed beneath him. His face and front were soaked in crimson. As their eyes met…he did not lunge at her. Her gaze froze him.How could anyone come across a scene like this, gaze into the eyes of the Beast, and look so concerned for him. Were these not her people? Was she not also a Sister? Oh no, there was something different about her.
Their gaze did not break as he reached his bloody, brutish hand out to her pale outstretched fingers. Just as their skin touched, he saw a dark flash flicker across her eyes. Suddenly he realized, there was a beast in her too….* * * * * * * *

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