A loud gasp of pain is heard from inside the crypt as Noctis uses his second dagger to pin Pontifex Maximus Ambrogio Sangria to the inside of the coffin.
"Traitors!" Ambrogio Sangria gasped in fear and rage at being betrayed. His sigils had never failed! Had they been destroyed, he would have instantly been awoken! That is, of course, unless the bones of his dam have been found.
"Impossible?!" Ambrogio Sangria rasped desperately, trying to buy time to save himself. No one should know that he had lived for centuries beyond the lifespan of a normal vampire.
"There are always those who know unspoken secrets if the right price is paid," Hecate icily said. It was the knowledge of just what Ambrogio Sangria had done for centuries to extend his life is ultimately what forced them to act. Such an abomination could no longer be permitted to live. Ambrogio Sangria must die.
The eyes of Ambrogio Sangria flit wildly about. Just who would have such power-? His lips curl into a sneer despite the pain. "With the death of the Rain Man and that gypsy woman. It would have to be the female get of Madam O'Germanova," he spat in contempt.
"Indeed, she does not possess the prowess of her mother," Hecate plainly admitted. "However, the power she possesses is sufficient for our needs. She actively divined the location of your dame."
"A surprise considering your supposed age, Pontifex Maximus," Luther frostily said. "Then again, it should come as no surprise once we discovered the identity of your infamous dame, and an utter disgrace to our kind."
Ambrogio Sangria flushes in humiliation at his dame being described in such a manner. However, his dame was hated by not just mortals but by their own kind. Her infamy and bloodlust had been so terrible that the reputation of vampires never fully recovered from her actions.
"Erzsébeth Báthory (Elizabeth Bathory)," Luther frigidly declared as the air seemed to squeeze out of Ambrogio Sangria's chest. "She entombed while still living, and ironically, her bones continued to lie there undisturbed for centuries. A very poor mishap on your part, Ambrogio. "
The wrinkled, pale face of Ambrogio Sangria became absolutely ghastly. His dark pupils shook at the words of Luther, and the past began to flash before his very eyes.
In 1554, Tamás Somlyó was born into nobility in a kingdom that no longer exists (in what is today Hungary and Transylvania). He lived lavishly and well, with a wide circle of friends. In fact, he became very good friends with Ferenc Nádasdy.
The wife of his good friend, Ferenc was known as Erzsébeth Báthory. She was cold, ruthless, and breathtakingly beautiful. Because of her youth and beauty, Ferenc often turned a blind eye to the peculiar antics of his wife. On the other hand, Tamás Somlyó was absolutely enthralled by them. The arrogance of Erzsébeth knew no limits; she was fearless, even more so than a man. It was a quality that Tamás greatly admired.
As time passed, Erzsébeth began to notice the effects of age upon her flesh. She began to desperately search for a cure, trying every potion and herbal remedy known to man, including those of the commonfolk, the peasant class. One day, a caravan of passing Cigány (gypsies) camped near the castle.
There were many tales told of the Cigány in court, but there were hushed whispers, rumors that the Cigány knew witchcraft. A good Christian soul would have never approached the Cigány, much less a woman of her standing. Yet the intrepid Erzsébeth in the dark of night crept out of the castle led by a trusted manservant to the encampment of the Cigány.
Boldly, Erzsébeth entered their encampment and poured out a bulging bag of gold onto the ground promising the entirety of the sum to whoever could provide her with eternal beauty. None of the improvised Cigány moved an inch, even the children. They were poor and hungry, but they had their pride.
Great impatience flashed across the face of Erzsébeth. If the Cigány would not give her what she desired, then she would take it by force. Sensing the murderous character of the noble lady, an old crone stepped forward from the crowd. The old crone limped to Erzsébeth, who withheld a sneer at the coarseness and patched clothes of the withered crone.
From the voluminous patched skirts, the old crone held out a glass vile filled with a crimson red substance that was so dark that it was nearly black. "A debt of blood was paid to us by the Prince himself, Vlad Țepeș," the old crone rasped, showing a mouthful of yellow crooked teeth with gaps of missing teeth.
"So, the whispered tales were true," Erzsébeth breathlessly said with bright eyes full of greed. "Is the payment enough?" She gestured to the scattered gold coins on the ground. "Or is it still lacking?"
Their people were hungry, and none of the villages they had passed had given the men work. Without coins, they could not buy provisions, and the children were growing weak and sickly. The gold coins would feed their people on their journey and keep their people alive.
The old crone reluctantly accepted the poor bargain. "The payment will suffice," the old crone croaked.
Erzsébeth greedily reached out and wrestled the vial out of the weathered, spotted hands of the old hag. She held up the glass vial in the light of the fire, intently studying the dark liquid inside. The liquid reminded her of her favorite black star ruby pendant.
"A word of caution, milady," the old crone warned. "What you hold is cursed, the same curse that held the prince in his grasp."
Erzsébeth paid no heed to the warning of the old hag and joyfully left the encampment, swiftly returning to her chambers. That night, Erzsébeth drank the foul, metallic contents of the potion. That very night, the nearby encampment of Cigány hurriedly departed into the darkness of the night and were far away by morning light.
The cure proved to be true, much to Erzsébeth's delight. There were some inconveniences which were easily rectified by feasting on the peasants. She reveled in her bloodthirst and especially enjoyed the blood of virgin peasants and even bathed in their blood to maintain her enchanting beauty. It was their honor, truly, and t'was not, though the nearby nobility cared if peasants went missing. The eccentricities of Erzsébeth remained largely unnoticed until the death of Ferenc in January of 1604.
The sudden death of Ferenc struck a terrible chord within Tamás Somlyó, who keenly felt the presence of death terribly near. So, for the first time in his life, Tamás Somlyó went on his knees and begged Erzsébeth to grant him the same gift she held. Moved by his begging and his many years of friendship, Erzsébeth turned Tamás Somlyó into one of her kind.
Granted a new lease on life, Tamás Somlyó lived vicariously, taking pleasure where he wanted and delighted openly in the shedding of blood. With the passing of years, the bloodthirst of Tamás Somlyó quelled. He realized that their kind was killable, and the oddities of their kind did not go unnoticed by the humans. He took care to distance himself from his dam, Erzsébeth, and feigned being a sickly old man, passing his title to his eldest son and dispersing most of his wealth among his children.
Erzsébeth Báthory's time came to an end on December 30, 1610, when she, along with her four servants are arrested for the terrible atrocities she had committed. Four of the accused servants were burned at the stake, while another was beheaded, and the fourth was sentenced to life imprisonment. Erzsébeth's fate was that much worse, she was bricked into a set of rooms. Trapped, she slowly went mad and starved until her death on the 21st of August of 1614.
Learning from the mistakes of his dam, Tamás Somlyó faked his death. With a new name and identity, Dietrich Haas journeyed abroad to Österreich (Austria). There in Österreich, he met more of his kind, who had founded a coven. There he was happy for a time, until thirty years later he once again felt the keen presence of death following in his every waking footstep.
Having been turned so late in life, the lifespan of Dietrich Haas' life as a vampire would be terribly short. Knowing his time was near, he grew wild with fear until he recalled the forbidden vampiric blood laws. He recalled just how his dam, Erzsébeth had been turned. She had not been bitten nor had she drunk the blood of a living vampire, but rather she had consumed the blood of her dead vampire sire.
Suddenly filled with hope, Dietrich Haas plotted and planned until he found the perfect victim. With ease, he gained the trust of a fledgling vampire by the name of Georg. It proved to be no difficulty, and all too soon, he was able to feast upon his prey in secret.
Having consumed his prey, the gush of fresh vampire blood instantly extended his life. Having the knowledge and power of how to extend his life, he planned on how to continue to do so. Every 50 to 100 years, he would fake his death, before moving to a new vampiric coven with a new identity. Though with his current identity of Ambrogio Sangria, he had remained at his current coven longer than normal having been able to extend his life secretly there.
Yet despite all his plotting and power, Ambrogio Sangria found himself brutally pinned to his coffin. The blades and arrow in his flesh made any movement absolutely agonizing. There was a terrible certainty that he was going to die.