Name:
Adopted name: Viktoria
Real Name: Lost due to her nature and mild brainwashing at a young age.

Gender: Undetermined

Age: Right around a thousand years, even the twins aren't entirely certain how long its been. Viktoria simply knows she came from a long time ago when it was so much easier to make whole towns vanish from this world of life.

Apparent Age: 13

Place of Birth: A manor in mid/late Dark-Ages Romania

Species: Vampire.

Coven: Tarepha

Appearance: Appearance: Viktoria is identical to her twin brother. Her skin is young and cold, flawless like a doll's. Upon her face is the pre-puberty mask of a child with emerald-colored eyes. She has platinum blonde hair with equally light roots that appears to run down to the length of her knees, thus requiring much effort to keep clean and good-looking. Her stature is like that of a child in her day and age, albeit a bit higher due to the proper nutrition she received in the care of her Lord however she did grow too much weight due to his obsession with their physical "perfection".

Height: 4' 5" (is that good? I'm terrible at heights and weights x.x)
Weight: 57 pounds


Clothing: Victoria usually wears feminine clothing consisting of a black strapless corset-topped dress with a laced fringe that opens to reveal a long, white lacy petticoat underneath. Over the dress she wears an open white-trimmed short jacket with billowing shoulders and a large, white open collar and long sleeves. On her neck sits a strip of white lace that is held in place by a black ribbon in a bow. Under the dress are white stockings and shiny black mary-janes.

History: Born to yet another serf family on the manor that was isolated in the Carpathian mountain chain. The place was left alone in its weak life during the Dark Ages. the location allowing it to be spared the frequent migrations of many ethnic groups and barbarians intent on plundering the civilizations that lay beyond them. However they were sheltered from the outside, the Lord of this place considered himself a god, and was very much so close to one.

A vampire had taken swift power over the supernatural fearing peasants when the roman presence had been driven off by barbarians such as the Goths. This was a long time ago however, and the numbers of the manor were dwindling, bolstered only by those who were unfortunate to chance upon this gilded human-farm. The only person who never died or vanish was the Lord. And the first few times, or when upstart barbarians somehow managed to find them, he shrugged off blows that would kill any ordinary humans, thus giving him an air of a daemonic nature. He required few things from them for this protection from the outside world, which he demonized a bit more than it really was. Occasional feedings, and to maintain this society through labor so as to unwittingly leave the rest of their generations bound to his whims through tradition and superstition.

A pair of twins were born (Yeah I didn't structure this very well, but I'm TERRIBLE at writing histories, sorreh ><) to one of the many families designated for field-labor. The most that could be expected from them is to grow up harvesting various grains, fruits, vegetables and animals before dying through natural means or a feeding. However the unique nature of their hair color was a curse and gift in one blood-laced package. This made them unique compared to the normal masses of cattle at the Lord's beck and call. Choosing the twins after they had grown up to be small children, roughly nine years old, the manor had considered them dead. sacrificed to their hungry object of worship for safety.

However the children found an existence much different from what they expected to suffer. Their god was actually fairly human with wants and desires of his own. He told them this, as well as great deal of other things, as he adopted them as pseudo-children he could never have. Eventually he swept them up into his own belief, and they soon thought themselves as his angels whom were loved and cherished as favored creations of his. This love however, transcended that of a paternal fashion, he was soon seeking to slake his physical desires on what he seen as a pair of "perfect" humans he had molded mentally to be instruments of his will.

In an effort to retain their physical purity, he chose to embrace them before they fully became their gender. Both were halted before the secondary sex changes could fully kick in and alter them, so Viktor and Viktoria would never truly know what puberty or adult hood would be like. this in itself did not trouble them, soon after this the Manor's "god" made an appearance with his newly blessed "angels". Dressed in dark colored robes and wielding long handled and bladed scythes, the small children with the "unnatural" hair looked to be the part of a dark angel that would come from the Lord.

And play their part they did.

Frequenting the Manor, it was their playground and the serfs their toys. They "broke" their family in the first week, discovering the joys of making the hard-things in people make cracking and snapping noises. The death didn't stop there though. The voracious parasites reaped as many lives as they possibly could, glutting themselves on their prey's terror and pain as well as their blood. Rapidly the serfs began panicking. Why were so many dying now? Had they angered their Lord to unleash these bringers of despair upon them?

In truth he was less than pleased with their behavior. And judgment fell upon them swiftly and unmercifully.

He struck them down before they could defend themselves against the onslaught of their Lord. Broke their weapons and their bodies. In the time it took to nurture them back to health, he tried instilling in them a measure of the truth. That they needed to restrain themselves or else this "paradise" would be lost to them. that was when the curtain fell and his lifetimes of lies revealed to them.

At first they denied it, living for many decades, ignoring the quiet whispers of madness as they upheld this twisted system. Their self-tormenting feelings at shackling themselves to this false-god and hatred at him for misguiding them to the point where they could no longer age and try to become something he had not shaped them into. The desire to leave this place and wander what the Lord called, "a vile and dark places where one would find only painful death and damnation." since he was no more a god than they were, he was more than likely to be wrong about the outside.

Now was not the time to seek freedom, not until they were confident enough to kill him themselves.

Biding their time they waited, a long and patient century, and rapidly they could foresee the demise of the Manor. The disillusioned Lord disbelieved its collapse, ignoring the toll the hunger three of his kind took on the isolated population. Through this they began to administer just how much blood he could receive. Slowly, cautiously weakening him over time while they remained at the peak of unlife. The final moment came nearly two-hundred years after their last living breath.

A marauding pack of saxons that came in the time period descended upon the town as they journeyed south. being of a not-too friendly fashion, they chose to take this place as their own through force. Naturally, the local god had something to say about this, and the ensuing massacre was fairly one-sided until the entire war band had been scattered to wind or left bleeding and broken on the soft soil.

Viktor and Viktoria were waiting for him at his residence. Eagerly with their blades and hunger for the wounded predator to retreat and lick his wounds. they took advantage of the small amount of parental instincts and actual physical desire to lure him into an unguarded state where they launched themselves in a frenzy at the already wounded vampire.

It was a short and fairly brutal affair, despite having use of only one arm and suffering from a limping in both legs, he managed to deal enough damage to the twins that they only managed to pin him by causing portions of the house to collapse on him due to wildly over-powered blows taking out support beams. The near-dead vampires consumed the deity as a symbolic ending of their enslavement to this place. Once they recovered enough, the cost in blood willingly supplied by the remaining serfs, the twins left the Manor and Romania behind, traveling west.

During the time period later known as the High Middle Ages, Viktor and Viktoria traveled more in southern europe, taking delight in the burgeoning populations to be found in the cities as well as the sweeping phenomena of the Gothic-style. Everything they seen and experienced was new in their unlives, and frequently they played the card of their stunted appearance to sway those who lived extravagant lives to temporarily enjoy such pleasures and learn more about the world around them. Granted this required much subterfuge or outright domination of their gracious "hosts" and they had to move on more than a few times.

However in their time spent in Italy, they ran into others of their kind. Bewildered that more of them existed, they hunted the few they encountered down, interrogating them for every ounce of information they could glean before they expired. And still they hungered for more. Resorting to less...brutal methods, the twins eventually found themselves integrated into the Machiavellian (even though he wasn't technically born yet xD) politics taking place in the shadows of Venice. Which as if they were a herald of woe, the Black Death descended upon Italy, and then Europe.

Withdrawing from the vampiric politics to revel in the terror and debauchery that was taking place, the twins murdered and stole what they desired. devouring culture and lives alike as they continued westward towards Spain, leaving the earth littered with blade-hewed corpses. Naturally people did not like this.

The erratic patterns of their trail of carnage left their pursuers frequently confused and lead to dead ends of charnel houses. Assorted hunters and even some Amman members who took the liberty of hunting down these wandering monsters than ministering the districts they had watched over before, It wasn't looking bright for the two Romanian "angels".

They wound up in Spain, having lured a number of their hunters into traps and liquidated them. Consuming their bodies entirely to make certain other hunters would not learn of the twin's drawn out cat-and-mouse game. Until the Amman coordinated with some of their Catholic members who happened to be in full swing with the Spanish Inquisition. The hunt that spanned decades lasted for only a month there. The long and body strewn path the children had taken ended outside a mission area near modern-day southern Portugal in former Moor territory.

~~

The screaming had stopped quite awhile ago. The lone mission post was nothing more than a tomb for corpses illuminated by the few flickering candles. Two of these mentioned corpses however, we actively moving about this scene of carnage, Being the cause of it, they were taking their time to enjoy it their work before the sun came up and they had to retreat to a dark and sealed place in this building.

A wet, sucking noise filled the silent room as Victoria pressed a light foot onto the chest of a nun and tugged out her axe. The blade came free in a slight burst of crimson and flesh, staining the front of her dress. Bodies were always so messy and they frequently needed to change clothes, especially when the blood dried and they became to stiff to even wear. It was the main reason she carried around a large pack, it would never do good to appear dirty and unclean before other.

Letting the heavy weapon clatter to the ground, the metal clanged loudly and sent echoes through the spacious building they were in. Brother was here somewhere, probably playing with his own toy. She crouched down next to the body she'd just mutilated. Her chest was a gory ruin, and blood has gushed from her throat when her organs were pierced, but the ghost-white skin was almost unreal looking. The twisted look of agony in the curled lips as if to screech, the eyes bulging to a degree where it'd seem they'd pop out. that was the pleasure sister derived from this.

Gently, as if touching something that might fall apart, she touched the nun's cheek as a flicker of some long lost memory of an older woman who was important to her. It was lost in the haze of time, pain, gluttony and blood. Retracting her hand like she had been struck, the memory faded away in a jolt. Occasionally she had nightmares while sleeping, that a man much more stronger than her or brother would come for them and punish them for their wickedness. Brother reassured her otherwise, they'd killed so many people, surely those lives cut short added length to their own?

Her green eyes narrowed and her soft child-like features twisted into a bestial snarl as she retrieved her axe and swung it in a downward arc, splitting open the woman's skull across the length of it. The screech she had let out echoed around her, and fearfully she whipped her gaze around, not realizing she had made that noise in the process. she paused on a dark door that led to the barren outside. She had heard a footstep outside.

"Brother...", her voice was sad, like that of a child who did something wrong and felt guilt over it.

The voice that replied was not the one she heard everyday and loved. It was deeper, older. It had the weight of one who dealt out judgment on those deemed wicked in his eyes. It was that voice she feared as its owner stepped into the light. The man would have been around his thirties and was wearing what looked to have been at some point good clothing, but time and travel had wrecked them. The wicked looking rapier in his hands was gleaming and perfect, he was there for only two people and she knew it.

Her teeth flashed as a cruel grin stretched across her face and her axe-hand hefted the weapon, ignoring the dripping remains of bone and grey matter on the bloody weapon. Inside she was terrified, Brother and her hadn't anticipated any hunters reaching them here. especially when they were separated and hadn't planned any traps for their unwelcome pursuers. and this wasn't a normal hunter, his gait and scent marked him like them.

Almost like them, they had given up most of their humanity a long time ago.

Swinging her axe to the side to draw attention away from her body for a second, she launched shelf at him. To a mortal it'd have appeared she teleported across the room, to another vampire she was just moving really...really fast. The bloodied blade cut through the air, whistling from the velocity it had as she swung it at his waist to cleave him in half.

Raising his unarmed and left hand, a foot long parrying-dagger emerged and he brought it down on the massive blade while simultaneously pushing himself up and voer the now downward arc of the axe. Bringing his right arm back he lunged the hungry tip of his rapier at Viktoria.

She looked up, her eyes widening in surprise at his finesse. She tried altering course and recoiling before his blade struck home, but her confused grin twisted into a grimace of pain as the point plunged deep into her shoulder. Screeching like an unholy creature she stepped back while being pushed by the force put into the rapier by her opponent. One hand flew to the wound, trying to pull the weapon out. Hot tears ran down her cold, undead cheeks from the pain.

"W-we killed so many! Now is not our time!" she swung the heavy weapon up and slashed open his leg, but also dislodged his pressing attack with the rapier as he retreated a few steps. Immediately the pressure on her wound ceased and she felt it stitching up until it was nothing more than a memory and new stain on her blood soaked dress.

Her focus drifted for an instant at the sound of clashing steel somewhere behind her. There was more than one, and they'd found her brother alone as well.

Looking back just in time to duck below a quick jab, she felt her shoulder and the clothing it tear in a flash of pain. Ignoring it she pressed forward to crush his solar plexus with the hard metal end of her axe and leave him winded long enough for her to decapitate him. Moving backwards and to the left, he tried avoiding it, but Viktoria pressed on with her speed and small frame and hammered into him.

A satisfying crunch rang out as well as gurgle gasp for air.

She felt her throat become flush with her life source, even as her opponent stumbled back, cursing in agony. Falling to her knees she had a difficult time breathing, each attempt a sickening gurgle as her blood-caked lips became coated with fresh liquid. ripping his parrying dagger from her throat she let out a soft moan, relieved of the agony to be replaced by a dull throbbing as it healed.

Her fangs ground into her lower teeth, grating painfully as her glare moved up to where her hunter...had been.

The blank look on her face masked the confusion and terror that rent her down to what soul she might have had. Her hesitation was just a moment, but that itself was a long enough pause for the Amman to strike. the rough hand on her shoulder jerked her around. Spinning her vision to briefly see the man silhouetted by the candle lights behind him, contrasting with the light spilling around him to make him appear black. A split second of a pause before she felt burning agony puncture her chest and heart, sending jolts of pain through her body that seemed to burn her nerves and replace it with an icy numbness.

Her strength faded and left her rapidly. Viktoria's legs buckled as they couldn't hold her weight any more. The bloody tool she clutched in her right hand hit the ground with a loud clang. He held her in his grasp as her vision darkened, like it did long ago. Back when she and brother lived with other normal people. Her breathing became shallow and weak, taking in the scent of sweat, copper and smoke. She felt at peace as her consciousness seemed to drift away from the suffering of this world and into the dark embrace of death.

~~

This wasn't their true end however. The Amman who'd been hunting them felt they should be put to death while they were left in a death-like coma from the stakes that punctured their hearts. The Spanish-branch had authority over this territory and and felt that these children needed to be absolved of their sins, for it was the evils of others who twisted them to be what they were today. In the end an agreement was reached. The twins would not be executed, but instead imprisoned within the catacombs beneath the Mission. In such a holy place they might be forgiven by God in their long sleep, and with the stakes being unremovable except by another, it was more than likely they would die before such an event could occur.

In 1936 however, the clash between the Spanish Republicans and Nationalists gave the twins an unexpected factor for their generation spanning slumber.

During the opening moves, both sides began rounding up and executing their opponents who happened to get caught behind enemy lines when the Nationalists rose up in a coup that rapidly changed from swift to long and bloody. A unit of nationalists had rounded up a large number of hidden communist sympathizers and were marching them out to the abandoned mission. there it would be a fresh grave for the dogs who remained loyal to a defunct system.

Rather than simply line them up and shoot the mass all at once, it was chosen to herd them all into the catacombs and kill them all at once with explosives. Faster, more efficient, and cheaper. Herded into the underground, the group was a bit perplexed as well as terrified at their fates. Inside they found a pair of twins dressed in victorian-style clothing with a stake through the heart. For some reason the bodies hadn't started decomposing, which led them to believe these were fresh corpses.

Either way their focus soon turn to the Nationalists lining the place with timed explosives. One of them, uncaring of what happened, ripped the stake from the girl's chest and charged the officer in command of the squad that was about to execute them. He hadn't made it two steps before the soldiers tore him to shreds with rifle and pistol fire.

Torn back by the multiple rounds, the dying man fell on top of Victoria as the Fates snipped his thread but also brought her own back into the weave of existence.

Underneath the now dead human, her body began to function slowly and as she awakened from the torpor-induced dreams that had haunted her, she was confronted by the same smell that welcomed her into oblivion. The cloying mxiture of sweat, copper, and smoke. Softly she bit into the body on top of her, feeding weakly from the still-fresh blood in the body. Regaining her strength bit by bit, she shoved the body off and noticed that the back was only puled remains, as was everyone else in the room.

The anti-personnel explosives had detonated while she was still shifting from dreams to reality and had eluded her notice, but had killed everyone inside. Hansel was there, still sleeping and cut badly by the shrapnel. He'd need fresh blood when he woke up as well. Sitting up, she ignored the tattered and dirty nature of her clothing and stumbled over to her sibling. Laying one hand firmly on his chest, she pulled on the stake until it wrenched its way free of his ribcage.

She wiped a moistness from her eyes at seeing her brother hurt so badly, but this sadness turned to hate as she heard noises outside.

The nationalists had cleared away the small blockade they'd set up so the condemned couldn't flee before the explosives did their work. Now they had to mop up anybody unlucky enough to survive in a mutilated and slowly dying form. The private pulling off a series of wooden boards was the first to go. He stiffened up all of sudden before falling to the ground in a bloody mess, missing most of his face.

His friend turned to scream for help but his intake of air was cut short by a hollow sounding "thunk". With a wheeze the air he had left his body and he looked down in disbelief at the metallic blade sticking out of the front of his chest. Mewling like the pitiful creatures humans were, he pawed weakly at the fatal wound before a vicious kick from behind dislodged the soldier from the axe.

Why they had been sealed with their weapons was a mystery, she had no recollection of what happened though. Perhaps One of the sides were formerly vikings and believed warriors should be buried with their weapons. Or perhaps an unknown watcher had intervened earlier to make certain they'd be prepared upon awakening. It didn't truly make a difference how, just so long as it worked.

The crimson-stained child looked at the remaining members of the squad with a feral hunger gleaming in her eyes and the glint of moonlight on her unnaturally white teeth and axe-blade. The soldiers flinched slightly at the twisted paradox of a monster and a delicate child, the corpses of their comrades spoke otherwise about how "delicate" she was.

Hesitating for a moment, she looked at the bizarre swords...or were they spears? That they were wielding. They didn't seem to have a blade of some sort, just a small opening...much like those overtly large and loud inventions that were exceedingly rare before they ran afoul of their hunters in Spain. stiffening as they pulled the trigger, she hesitated out of curiosity too long to avoid the hail of gunfire.

The bullets pierced her clothing and flesh, occasionally avoiding or splintering a bone. The metal was rapidly pushed out and the hole it made healed up. However the ache these thing gave her still lingered much like a bee-sting. She didn't want to feel it again. Charging at them with her heightened speed, she reached a pair of them before they realized she wasn't dead from the first volley.

A wide arced swing and she split them in half at the waist-line, causing the heavy top halves to fall to ground in a splash of organs and vital fluids. The others turned slowly, to her at least, to face viktoria and snap off another shot. Grabbing the vastly improved hand-cannon humans now had, she broke the soldier's hand as she tore it from his grip. Her axe swung out behind him and embedded itself into his back, severing his spinal column and leaving him limp like a dead fish.

Hoisting the corpse in front of her, the next instant was filled by the cracks and snaps of gunfire that tore into their comrade's body.

Discarding her shield, while the slow humans reloaded their cannons in an odd fashion that made it much more efficent than in her days, she immersed herself into the squad. Hacking them off in swings at the knees, they fell to the ground screaming and writhing. Burying her axe hilt deep into the soft and meat center mass she tossed the corpses at still-living targets, trapping them under the heavy weight of a body. the last human uninjured and alive was the commander, he'd drawn his pistol and had it drawn towards Victoria when she spoke.

(Spanish dialog)
"Senor...what is that you're holding? What year is this?"

He glared at her as she kept asking questions in a soft and innocent voice before screaming at her, "Send my regards to Satan!" He shot her, almost six times before her axe swung and severed his hand at the wrist. The hand and gun fell to the ground while he pitched backwards with a cry of pain and alarm, clutching his bloodied stump.

She grabbed his throat and began dragging him along, seemingly unphased by his violent thrashing while she hummed to herself some lines of opera she had enjoyed very much when they briefly visited Vienna.

Hoisting the still-living commander's wrist to her brother's mouth, she squeezed on it enough to make the bone crunch audibly. The life-blood flowed out from the wound and onto her brother's face, reviving him as it did her. The human however was unconscious, having slipped into blissful unconsciousness from the pain.

She waited, and let her brother slake his thirst on the remaining human. Once he'd finished they exchanged their affection and composed themselves and understanding of the situation by looting the soldier's bodies. The spanish these people spoke was different than what they knew. Close, but just different enough to make some words unrecognizable.

From here they journeyed, in a much more discreet fashion than before, around this country, piecing together the history they had missed and the language barrier through the useage of hostages and academic humans. eventually they were swept up into the Nationalist half of evacuations and were shipped into the Netherlands for a brief period of time. From their they stowed away a boat after accidentally killing one too many people and causing a large activity of police to wander the night.

It ended up this boat headed to colonies in South East Asia, bringing supplies to return with raw materials and such. The twins didn't kill everyone on board, but instead chose to "stock up" on people when they went ashore, giving them a blood supply that lasted through the ship.

Once in the Netherland's colonies, they began practicing their usual routine after the was finally ended and all the soldiers with their dangerous "firearms", as they had become known, for the most part left besides their bases. Here in the almost wild west like surroundings of this place, they prospered until a fateful meeting with another vampire by the name of Kouryou.

~Will do this later once I make Kouryou (discussed with Marcus)~

After the events that transpired there and the subsequent decades, the twins boarded a boat that headed for the United States in the 1960s and eventually ended up in San Fransisco. Here they maintained a thin veneer of sanity by not butchering people left and right. However this masquerade quickly wore out and the twins had irritated the few Amman around. Run out of the city, they began moving north, feeding off of people heading to Canada to avoid the draft in the Vietnam war.

Soon there after they found themselves entering the country north of America. It wasn't really different, a bit colder and less populated. The blood was just as warm and the human suffering as enjoyable though. Eventually they received directives from Kouryou to go to Demaitre on a hunt for a specific Asian male rumored to be there, or heading there. So now they're waiting, avoiding the mass carnage they enjoy inflicting. Currently their amusements come from the occasional random and bizarre murder as well as being members of the Tarepha coven.