The First World Drowned.
The Second World Burns.
The Third shall Quake.
And Tremble at his heels.
Like the twitching maggot groveling beneath him. A pale body, dressed in an oriental robe, twitching like a decapitated snake. She was certainly an impressive sorceress in her life, but over the years, certainly mellowed out. Her golden yellow robes faded to tatters, her ceremonial hat crumpled above her faceless head. The Taoist scroll blocked her snarling visage, but not her hissing fury as she shrieked in the presence of her captor. A jiangshi, a vampire of a different nature from the East, who feasted upon the mystical "chi" of mankind. And this pathetic creature not just any jiangshi but the Queen of them, and a disgrace to her kind and kin. Her faded beauty wrapt in a dress of Qing, a Manchurian gown to which her screaming body was dressed in. One of the last of the Old bloods in the East, their influence in the east would die with her. As true with all vampires, cut the head and the rest would follow.
In the dark tunnels of the Imperial Palace, within the city of Beijing, the world above and world below were vastly different. The traditions beneath them, the world of spirits and ghosts, of old magic and superstition, still reflected above despite the modern hustle and bustle of the city streets. Triple overpasses running in concentric rings to mimic the layout of the ancient city. History abound in the corners within the confines of the high-rises. A mix of old and new, something which had vexed the Oldest of bloodkin. They were indeed relics, confined to their dark spaces, no longer feared but forgotten, powerful but meaningless. The results of the last war proved it to be so, and now in ten year's time, the humans had ended up miraculously on top once more. What was this world coming to? The vampires were clearly the superior beings, immortality within their grasp. Imagine if the chickens being butchered in the street market above suddenly began a rebellion. They had no right to and here in the land of KongFuzi, everything knew it's place.
"Save what honor you have left Dowager Empress and I shall grant you a swift death." His voice was calm and oddly soothing. Commanding authority with his lettered flags. They had cast him out, he broke their covenants and rules, yet he cared not for the regulations which he once respected and enforced. There was no need for fools to be protected by such amends, no reason for him not to cull the weak vampires who failed in the uprising. Failed him and his vision for a new world. They had resources and ambition, but in being put down by the humans, they proved themselves weak. Unfit to retain their unlives, and should be killed. He started with Magnus as the first, and certainly this Empress now before him would no be the last. Over the ten years of living in the shadows, falling out of contact with the rest, he had not simply bided his time. No the knight was busy, taking the lives of his former associates, all council members who were quite surprised to find that the staunchest of their group to be hunting them like dogs. Yet in secret he committed his actions, like a shadow to the vampires, far more effective than the best of vampire hunters. A kill count to top that of the Metal Man himself, for it was more effective to know where one's former allies were sleeping. Many more would fall in his path, those standing in his way, those unworthy of experiencing his wake, and those who simply failed to escape his ire. Yes, Bedivere now sought what he had long deserved but never claimed. The Throne.
"Goodbye Cixi." The blade came down and the pyre lit. The last echoing screams of the ancient matron gone up in a foul black smoke. When the fires died and smoke cleared, there stood the Lone Knight, clad not in his armor, but a business suit, crisp and clean. His cuffs certainly linked with gold and ruby crowns and his skinny black tie knotted with an intricate Fishbone. His white shoulder-length hair combed back straight behind him, as he appeared to be much younger than his previous appearance, far too young to be an imposing vampire lord. Yet his eyes would tell the story of a hardened warrior, a man of old traditions, of morality based on ability. A business man who plucked from the ashes of the queen, a large pearl to add to his collection before scratching out her name from his list and buttoning up his suit to leave.
"Now then. Who shall I find next?"