Lurching forward, the multitude of corpses began an uncoordinated assault which was more horrific in it's execution than it could ever be in it's result. The foul stench of death marked them as zombies, and their approach was accompanied by a symphony of unearthly howls. As the moved their flesh began to peel away, rotting and exposing the entrophied muscles below. Most seemed to be infested with at least one variety of flesh eating parasite. Besides their unfocused eyes and tattered clothes, however, the grimy creatures also had one thing in common which the vampire found highly disturbing. Why were they were all so gaunt, almost skeletal? There had been a town's worth of mortals here, and now they were... she already knew the answer to that. That sadistic bastard had given every single man, woman, and child in the keep the tiniest taste of Eternity, just enough to bring them back as an undead army. But if they were all changed then what she saw made a macabre kind of sense. The poor things were being starved to death...

It was rare for the vampire to feel rage.

She neatly sidestepped the undead drone who lunged at her with a rusty dagger, an aura of darkness forming around her hands. The vampire screamed her defiance as she turned.

"Variev, you bastard!!"

In one fluid motion she crushed the rotten skull of her first attacker with a clawed fist and smashed the jaw of another with a graceful kick.

"How could you do this to your own creations?"

The sickening crunch of their breaking bones was almost drowned out by cries full of repressed emotion. Not pure hate, nor despair, nor anger, nor even madness but a frightening combination of the four.

" We were your companions.."

The second zombie fell back, blood and greyish matter spilling out onto the once pristine cobblestones from the splintering crack in it's forehead.

"... but these are your PEOPLE!"

As one more of the unfortunate creatures approached her she reached into it's gut, ripping out it's entrails through now soft stomach muscles. The dark, clotted blood stained her palms.

" You call yourself a Lord..."

The remaining zombies, their minds possessing some residual glimmer of intellect, began to swarm for a final assault.

" ... but a true Lord would NEVER leave his subjects to the Hunger!"

Seeing this, the bloodied ghostlike woman came to a stop and raised her right hand.

" But then, you were never much for honor Renny."

The anger left her tone and as she spoke to her enemy the vampire's tremoring voice gained a sorrow-filled numbness.

" I know you've felt it Variev..."

The scythe rune appeared over her outstretched palm.

"...the aching in your soul. Lust for blood or flesh, it matters not....."

And what could only be described as an explosion of nothingness engulfed the charging soldiers.

"...You condemned them to the Dreaming, just like you condemned us."

The gate was now empty, and the entirety of the barren village was overtaken by an unnatural silence.

"Even if they feed... they'll never come back."

A silence disturbed only by the pounding of her boots on the walkway and the harsh screech of rusted metal.

"I know you can hear me Variev... I know it..."

She was half whispering now, standing in a low defensive posture as the iron gates to the ruined castle opened.

"So come and get me, Neclord."

A smug, calculating grin with a touch of bloodlust infected the vampire's countenance as she lay in wait for her enemy. This was not the face of the Lady. This was the look that had made the Vampire Tribe the terror of a thousand bedtime stories.

The young woman had an open face, the kind that spoke of an unassuming gentleness and unquestionable docility. It was the sort of face that noble fathers cultivated in their daughters, and one which the girl was very fortunate to possess. Along with her exotic ivory hair and scarlet eyes it was sure to secure her a marriage within the highest circles of the aristocracy though her father was nothing but a merchant baron. Beauty tended to break down the barriers between old and new money for the young men of the Tsar's court. It was therefore imperative that she be at her finest infront of the noblemen who were to appear at the Sun Duchess's Gala that night.

Behind her, an elderly maid was industriously stitching the last part of the gauzy overskirt the girl would wear to the all-important event. She knew that in order to keep her job, her Mistress' daughter would have to look like more than any other rich man's daughter. The girl would have to look like a Lady. The Mistress had ordered the finest of materials for it, and it certainly wouldn't be healthy for the servant if the elaborate confection of copper, iron, and blue silk was not up to the Mistresses' standards. The elderly servant gave a mental shrug; she was used to the Mistress' demands. Hands made dexterous by years of manual labor did not miss a stitch despite the tirade of the woman who stood above the maid and her charge.

"You must remember on thing, Sierra. Act like a Lady! Everything I have taught you in your entire life has led up to this night. You will not disappoint me young lady! I've worked too long and hard for you to throw it all away tonight. Mark my words, you act like a Lady and you will become one!" The woman's voice was harsh, grating at the ears of the clustered help. Mistress Yashka was stout - as those with money and of large girth were called - and she seemed about to crush the girl whom she towered above.

" Yes mother. I understand mother," responded the girl softly.

" Now, now, child. Don't look away from me! You know I'm only doing this for your own good. I was once a noble, you know. What did I do? I made the mistake of marrying out of petty infatuation!"

The Mistress' words continued without falter as she looked her daughter in the eyes. It was the half crazed glance of a desperate woman, disguised by words suddenly saccharine.

" But you won't, my darling. You'll marry a Baron or a Duke or an Earl and do the House of Miuret honor! You know that your Father needs the business such an alliance could bring. Now what have I taught you, Sierra?"

"A Lady carries her self with grace, mother," the young woman murmured.

"Good."

"A Lady bends to the will of her betters. A Lady knows no betters other than the Noble Lords."

" Continue!" The mother snapped, pacing back and forth by the sunlit windows,

" A lady has the softest skin, the slimmest figure, the most luxuriant hair...."

"And? What of duty, girl!"

" A Lady knows her duty. To heed her parents and Lord. To find and care for a husband who does credit to her bloodline."

The girl rose from the mahogany stool to stand on the luxurious foreign carpets, tentatively glancing at the woman's face.

"Don't worry mother. I know my duty. Tonight I'll find a husband and make you proud," she proclaimed with timid resolution. Clasping her hands in the proper manner, she silently glided out the door in order to meet the carriage, spine locked in the posture she had been trained to keep since childhood.