[Twi]Chronicles of the Impaler!!!!: Crisis of Infinite Draculas!!!

[AnimeKid]

Seras

She looks at Alexander Anderson as she exclaims, "OH COME ON!. I thought we got rid of you once and for all during the London Burning! Well at least this time your not a monter." She exhales in frustration. It was bad enough she had to deal with his junior female clone in her time, but now she had to deal with him here as well? "Ah bloody hell."

She looks towards the man who is lumbering towards her master as she intercepts him. She then says, "Ah, ah, ah. Don't you know that if there is a lady in the room you greet her first?" She then dashes forward with her superspeed and tries to slam a fist into his face.

[Colesign]

Seras Victoria

{Fairly good point on Anderson being, you know, dead: but don't worry, I've got an explanation that totally makes sense and is NOT at all silly}


Suddenly, while charging into battle against Anderson and the strange Hasidic Fellow, you realize that half of Father Anderson's face is now...well, metal.

He's been resurrected from the dead...As A Cyborg!

Vampire Hunter: Cyber-Anderson, the Priest of Tommorow!!!

Suddenly, a swarm of glowing bible pages blows in from nowhere, forming a vortex of Old Testament excerpts. A thinner, longer haired version of Father Anderson steps forward, wearing bright, large, yellow wrap around shades that glow in the evening light. An absurdly large crucifix dangles from his neck between the edges of the giant leather greatcoat he wears.

"And I looked upon the face of the deep, and saw the face of perdition itself." He grimly intones, raising his hands: they begin to glow with bright yellow energy that resembles sunlight. "But the Lord gave me strength to overcome all darkness: behold his works and quail before his majesty! Amen!"

Vampire Hunter: The Last Son of Rome!!!

Suddenly, propelled by giant rocket boots, a giant gleaming figure soars upward and then lands with a large 'crunch'. It's some guy wearing a giant Powered Armor Suit that looks like Anderson, with a crucifix emblazoned on his chest in steel. The only non metal thing on his person a the grey-purple great-coat, and a set of spectacles set upon the nose of his metal faceplate.

"In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, We shall stop your Bloodsucking Reign of Terror! Perhaps then all the kids on the street can be safe!" He roars, hefting a giant Steel Hammer/Crucifix.

Vampire Hunter: The Anderson of Steel!!!

You inwardly wince, waiting for yet another one to show up. After five seconds, you begin to relax...

"Hey bozos!" A young, cocky voice says. Out from nowhere there steps out what looks like an adolescent version of Anderson, with scruffy, slicked back hair and a big leather jacket worn over his priest's cassock.

"We're, like, going to kick your asses in the Name of the Lord, Yo!" He says, as twin Bayonet-Chucks slide out from underneath his sleeves. His expression darkens. "And whatever you do, do Not call me..."

Vampire Hunter: Anderson-Boy!!!

...

...

...

You just stop and stare for a moment. The Hasidic Jew fellow that was charging at you slows down to a stop, and places a thick, muscled hand over his face, shaking his head slowly.

Anderson Boy puts a hand to his ear.

"What what? Oh...oh, I see."

He turns to his fellow legacy characters. "The Boss wants us all back at the Chapel. Something about that 'Blake' character."

He thrusts a finger at Alucard and Seras.

"We'll finish you next time!"

With that, all the Andersons disappear in a flurry of Bible pages.

The Hasidic Jew glares at you two, and walks off.

...Oy Vey.

As if in a counterpart to your perturbations, the castle keep finally begins collapsing into a pile of rubble. Thankfully, the destruction is relatively contained.

[Cracklord]

Alucard
"You don't learn, do you Judas priest? Your old body was far more beautiful." Alucard says, almost sadly. He had admired the man. For a time, he had even thought the priest would be the one to kill him. But the priest had been broken by his ordeals, and in the end Alucard had watched him make the same mistakes he himself had made.
Furthermore, he feels confused, and even a little lost. It's like reality was being commanded by a childish god who had no concept of sequence or anything else, and was simply banging them together as though playing with toys without rhyme or reason. When he’d first arisen as a vampire he had believed God to be indifferent or even actively malevolent, mocking his creations. He’d never considered whether the deity had just gone senile before, but increasingly that was looking like the case. How else would you account for this? It was so foolish it was more then he could do to take it seriously.
He watches the place where they vanished, then sighs, and simply steps of the zeppalin, falling back to earth. Right now, all he cares about is marching up to the chappel bringing blood and fire, removing this mockery from his sight, then finding somewhere that the world still makes sense and isn't subject to the deranged whims of a moron.
He doesn't say a word to Seras. He's told her all he has left to say to her. From now, it's up to her to find her own way through unlife.

Dracula
After consideration, he decides not to attempt to try rebuilding the thing. Admittedly after making improvements it could be impressive, he'd be better using his own designs and scratch built equipment. Unfortunately, while he had knowledge of alloys, and compositions, and molecular structures and all the rest, he had not the raw materials or the equipment to build any of them.
Just the same, he’s more interested now in creating himself the equipment to build a workshop, from which he can begin creating things more practical then a transporter or gun.
That in mind, he takes the boiler, to use as an improvised generator, as well as anything else he judges to be useful down to the dungeons.

[Colesign]

Dracula

The main dungeons have been collapsed. Thankfully, there's a sub-dungeon in one of the curtain wall towers.

As you walk by a pile of corpses, one of the bodies stirs. The body of one of the Austria Hungarian Pilots, probably flung from a disintegrating aircraft.

[Cracklord]

Dracula
This castle was all but destroyed already. But there were other castles. And there were men to be enslaved to rebuild broken ones. For now, this place suits him. Plenty of space, a good position, if not for the company and the insistence of old, forgotten enemies showing up, he could be quite comfortable here.
He has no interest in establishing another kingdom, or even an empire. He'd moved past that. His name was feared by all, he'd experimented with the greatest depths of cruelty imaginable by any mind, and his full complement of sin would shame the devil himself, down in his fiery hells. It no longer interested him. He’d turned to other matters.
He was flawed, as were all beings. He wanted to surpass those flaws. Not as himself, he had reached the limits of the possibility. But he would have more children, and they would surpass him, as his first son had done.
He has little interest in the other beings who share his name. They would become like him in time, walking the earth. It’s not that he has changed, no he has no regrets, he would change nothing. His never felt sorry, and he has no interest in atonement. He simply has found his priorities have shifted to something less selfish, perhaps even more noble, for an admittedly strange definition.
Taking his cane, he tosses it at the man so fast it’s a flash of light, given he threw it so fast it incandesced from the air friction, where it smashes through the still living man’s head. He would have died shortly anyway. This way was better, he never felt anything, and he was no longer a temptation. He’d never get any work done while he could hear a heart beating, and he resented his need for blood so much he only ate when he had no choice in the matter as an exercise in self-control. Dead blood does not tempt him, any more then artificial or bottled blood. He only eats from the living. By killing him, he removes temptation. He hefts the machinery, leaves his staff, then makes his way below.
Stepping into the iceroom, where a great mirror covered in rime dominates the room, he pauses. There is a man his height, his aristocratic, patricians features made all the more severe by his ponytail, and his black coat and clothes fine if drab. There is something familiar about the man, though given he hasn’t seen his reflection in ten thousand years it would be strange to expect him to note that, bar the moustache, the two could have been identical twins.

[Draxx]

Vlad
In many ways he was civilized, modest and considerate, however some aspects to his personality were positively animalistic. For one thing, his first loyalty was to the strong, those who helped themselves. It transcended all things, his sense of responsibility and his love for his country, even his faith.
Dracula was strong. But perhaps not the strongest. That would have to be seen.

He looks at the castle atop a crag ahead of them, and then looks at the vampire again. For a moment his hand closes on his stake, then he lets go, and folds his arms to ward off the temptation. He doesn't exactly intend violence, but the weapon is comforting.

"Here you are. It is the only place, and it is before you. While the others show their power as they flaunt their strength, and wear their allegiances for all to see, you remain silent. What more can be said?" He says. "It seems in all the worlds, I alone died as myself. It is humbling, yet maddening, to be faced with the branches my history may have took. Yet I died as myself. And even now I do not regret it."

"And what of you? What do you regret?" He smiles. "While fate seems determined to thwart you, you can do it right this time. She lives. You can save her, this time. Then again, no doubt all the others have the same memories. How do you imagine that will turn out?"

[doliest]

Dracula
His eyes widen at the distant structure...oh yes. He turns his eyes to view the various 'hims' running around. Pathetic, the lot of them. Powerful? Oh, yes. Dangerous? Most certainly. But their either lacked ambition, such as the...disturbingly appealing fuzzy creature. Or were utterly mad, like the red coated monster. No, he was sane AND driven. And he needed to establish control over the lot of them if he was to get anywhere in all this madness.

Resolute, he attempts to teleport straight to his castle. Once he was sure of it's safety, he could corral the psychotics and lead them under his branner. Just like the old days, really.

[darkblade]

The King wanders the remnants of the battlefield seeking the wounded and dying to feed upon. He needs to feed and he needs it soon.

[Colesign]

King

You search for any living corpses, of which there are a few. You can try to interrogate them, or just drain them...

*Puts on Sunglasses*

Right Off The Bat!!!

Draculavania

It takes a lot of effort to manage the sudden teleport, but you grit your fangs, and with a cry of effort, vanish in a White Pillar of Light.

You fall slightly short (you can always teleport again though), landing right outside you precious, precious Castlevania...

Impatiently, you gesture, and the mist around the Castle begins to dissapate.

And then your eyes widden.

This...Is Not Your Castlevania!

An enormous structure looms overhead, a strange fusing of spires, arches, domes, and pillars, some jutting out at odd angles. You blink. The Foundation is an exact replica of St. Peter's Bascilla, and what you recognize as the Temple of Solomon is right on top of it: above that is a Bahai Temple with white pillars, and above that the Great Mosque of Kairouan, and above that a Zoroastrian Temple: smaller Churches of many, many Protestant denominations dot the sides like blisters.

This terrible, bizzare edifice positively reeks of faith and sanctity, and above it, up in the sky, there are strange 'Cracks', like the dome of the world had been broken, through which lurid Red Light shines through.

Behold...Chapelvania!!!!

You think you can teleport inside if need be.

[Colesign]

And so it came to pass that the players of this sad performance won a grand, terrible, perplexing battle, that was only a prelude for the savagery yet to come.

An Animal paced back and forth, imprisoned in a cage of Hatred and Mysticism, hoping for the Death he handed out so freely...

...while his Child of Night stared out at horizon, hoping to find her own way in Un-Life, finding no joy in butchery, but prepared to undertake it, as living and unliving must so often...

A Brilliant Scholar, old and cold as eons, sought diversions, knowledge, and Excitement, much like a certain famous Scholar: but unlike Faust, his Infernal Pact Had already been made...

Three Foolish Kings strode forth, each Dreaming of Shining New Futures: but which Dream would become reality: the Dream of a Land Restored, the Dream of a War Against God, or a Dream of Dominion Over all the 'Livestock'?

...And there was a Fool, who Counted Pebbles as the World Shook apart at it's foundations around him.

And as the Night fell over the land, the Monsters and Saints, Hunters and Predators...they all knew that the sun would rise revealing only one thing...

Terrible Victory.

...It's time. I swear I will come back for you all. It would be improper not to, no?

[darkblade]

Half his body has already begun to revert to a pure crystalline state. One good hit with a blunt instrument would shatter him and leave him for dead and without a loyal retainer present he has no hope of resurrection. He feeds on every survivor he comes across slowly allowing his body to return to a more stable fleshy state.

[Draxx]

Vlad
He simply stands in place, watching the strange cathedral while trying to remain calm. But it's hard, the idea of the holiest of hollies mingled with the heretical structures of those who defied salvation represents a monument to what he spent his entire life fighting against.

[Cracklord]

Alucard
He steps out of a shadow next to Dracula, a gun in each hand. Both of them are so large you doubt any human could lift them with both hands, let alone fire them. "How brave of them. Now we have something to destroy." He says, eyes mad with bloodlust. He was looking forward to this. Indeed, there might even be someone in there who could kill him.

[Colesign]

King

You notice a particularly juicy specimen that's not particularly injured. But before you can drain him dry, the vampire with the cane bashes his brains in.

...That ****.

[darkblade]

((Wait who is the vampire with the cane?))

The King sends out his fangs and consumes the wounded man as his flesh returns to it's much more human like state and he returns to his human form. He lets Kivat off of his perch on the belt that fades into ether as the familiar dismounts. "Lead me to the castle you saw. No doubt the others are already seeking it out."

[Cracklord]

(Vampire D Dracula)
Dracula
Outside the ice room, low voices can be heard. Briefly, one is raised in passion, only to fall into low, thoughtful silence mid-tirade. After the low murmuring falls silent as well, the other vampire steps out of the room and into the ruins of the castle, and for a long time there is silence, broken only by the slow grinding of metal against the ground, and an occasional sound not unlike hammering.
Time passes in pregnant silence, as the pressure begins to build. For a moment, the grinding starts up again, than falls to a stop once more. A slow, steady drip can be heard, constant, like the beat of some strange, natural music. Then abruptly, there is a flash of white blue fire and a crackle of electricity, a thick buzzing that was almost unbearable. The fire flashed three times, then faded, and again there was silence. Acrid smoke drifted out of the room, and into the musty air outside.
More time passes. A few times, something silvery flashed within, but it was gone before one could take a good look at it. The silence stretched on and on, and then suddenly there was a hum and a whir. A cloud of sparks drifted up and a momentary tongue of blue fire jumped up, then a deep bass hum of a generator began, and there was a low, triumphant chuckle.

[Colesign]

Everyone

All of a sudden, the ground rumbles, as if a class five earthquake was shaking up the entire place. The sound of a crack of thunder resonates throughout the valley, and off in the distance, the strange streaks of red up above the recently revealed 'Chapelvania' grow slightly.

And then it starts raining Dracula Plushie Dolls from one of the cracks in the sky. Briefly.

People Near Chapelvania

No one appears to have noticed you yet. However, there are not only Zeppelins hanging around the spires of Chapelvania, but also a fair amount of relatively advanced Aeroplanes, all bearing Red Stars upon their wings.

Everyone Else at the Starting Castle

Suddenly, a Streak of Red Bursts forth from nowhere, a Crack in the Universe itself. It's Red Glow grows to blinding proportions, and a man jumps out of the Gap just before it closes, falling on the ground with a thud.

Smoke pours from his body as he gasps for breath, then slowly picks himself up: he's dressed in a long victorian gentleman's coat with a suit and ascot, not too dissimilarly to Alucard's garb (though not red.)

His is the features of a man in his late fifties, with graying red hair and a grizzled cheek, with blue, humorous eyes. A simple golden crucifix rest around his neck.

"Escaped? Good, very good." He mumbled to himself in Dutch. "Now where am I?" He looks around. "Ah. Here. A bit far off: Nosferatu might be near. Best to be careful, no?"

Suddenly, something beneath his sleeve begins blinking. He pulls it back with a gloved hand to reveal a wrist strapped piece of machinery with red lights that blink faster and faster in concert with an ominous beeping noise.

"Oh no you don't!"

Stripping the device off his arm, he holds it over his head as he breaks into a run outside of the outer walls of the Castle. "Out of the way!" he shouts to no one in particular. "Out of the Way! Big Bomb! Explosion! Dangerous!"

[Cracklord]

Dracula
The ground shook, and the equipment shook with it. In the early stages of development and cannibalized from a range of other machinery, it’s extremely delicate. The engine does not settle, the shakes getting more and more severe, shaking off it’s outside, then jumps sharply, almost falling over as it begins malfunctioning. Another arc of blue fire runs over it like static electricity, and then the whining hum gives way to a jolting banging from within, as though it was being worked over by hammers. Blue fire starts running across it, and then it gives out, the whole thing collapses into a heap of ruined metal, glowing softly.
Its builder stares down at it in disgust, then thumps the wall, cracking the stone. A trickle of dust falls down from the ceiling. He’d just completed a perpetual motion machine too. Well, not actually. Close enough, however, in eight thousand years it would have slowed and finally stopped. He could lengthen the time with the requisite tools to do a better job, but given he was scavenging he’d been quite happy with it. Now he’d have to start again from scratch. Until he had something that could power his work, he couldn’t move on to more interesting things.
He opens the door, and walks back up to the surface, to take a look at the machines and try to find enough to start again.

Alucard
He catches one of the dolls, and takes it to his face, looking at it. For a moment, fury, complete and absolute flashes over his features, then it's gone, and he drops the doll, wiping his hand on the coat in an unconcious guesture, as though he's been tainted.
He does not appreciate being mocked.

[Colesign]

D-Dracula

Wasted effort is particularly frustrating, even to one so long lived as you...

Although it suddenly occurs to you that there's an abandoned Zeppelin parked outside the Castle Walls.

There's lots of equipment in there to tinker with, and if another quake occurs...well, it's in the air.

[Cracklord]

D-Dracula
Being outside given the sun would be rising soon irked his sense of self preservation. He could live beneath it's light, but it weakened him, and here that would be fatal. Just the same, nothing was ever achieved without risk.
He steps out of the iceroom, adjusting his clothes until they were straight, and replacing his coat. He always looked his best when he took a new home. It would be temporary, soon he would continue his wanderings, but for now something told him that this was the place to be, some snatch of insight he couldn't articulate kept him from wandering the earth.
Dressed again in his severe dark clothes, he fishes around in his pocket, removing a pair of circular smoked glass lenses, that he wipes clean then places over his eyes, completing the ensemble with a top hat and his cane. So prepared, he left the now ruined castle and looked at the zeppelin, considering it at length. It was an outdated concept, but not one without merit, to his way of thinking. Given time and patience, he could adjust it to no longer need the dirigible, harnessing the magnetic poles of the earth to fly, but for now it would have to do.
Stepping into it, he makes his way to the engine room, which he means to completely take to pieces and start again from scratch.

[industrious]

The Count

"Sewenty-Fiwe Wampire Dolls! Ah-ha-ah-ha-ah!"

The Count finishes his counting, and spots Alucard. The fuzzy purple being spots him, and gives a friendly wave.

"Hello, Count! How are you doing?"

[Colesign]

Back at the Castle

There's an explosion that sends up a cloud of dirt and a series of very choice Dutch curses.

[darkblade]

Kivat leads the King to the Gates of Chapelvania. He pauses to consider the fortress for a moment, evidently it was some kind of outpost for the anachronistic army. If anywhere had answers for him it would be this place. He watches the castle from a safe distance away to see if any surprises lay in wait, or if one of his counterparts would be so kind as to draw attention away from him.

[Colesign]

Kiva

You see what the other Draculas see, i.e. a towering hodgepodge edifice of all the major Monotheistic religions known to mankind. Still, it seems to have no active defenses...

Everyone At Chapelvania

Suddenly, you hear a chorus of yipping sounds, as if a horde of painted savages were massing over the nearby hill...

...And suddenly, a small of Painted Savages Filled With HATE Pour over the Nearby Hill!!!

You blink: The painted savages are all Vampires, all of which possess widow's peaks!!!

Beyond that one common characteristic, they vary in different ways. Most of them wear Red Opera Cloaks with ornate medals. Some have black hair, some have white hair. Some are clean-shaven and possess fascinating eyebrows, while others possess mustaches and lips of astonishing ruddiness. Some have wolf-heads, one is wearing a Wizard Hat, and many have purposefully torn their close to rags, stripped down to their waists, and put on war paint...IN BLOOD, of course.

Ahead of them all, leading them, is a Man in a Black Space-Suit with red in-set lights glowing behind his visor...and a set of bat-wing style insets between his arms and shoulders.

"Kill the Hunters!" Space Dracula howled. "Kill Kill Kill Kill Kill!"

Howls greet his simple command, and the many incarnations of Dracula break into a full out charge at Chapelvania, unnatural strength propelling them towards that edifice of ill sanctity.

There is a humming noise from Chapelvania, as if defense systems, whether mystical or magical, are activating.

[Cracklord]

D-Dracula
He steps out to look down in order to see the onrushing horde, looks at them, and sighs, rolling his eyes. The sun will rise in a few minutes, and they'll burn. In the meantime, he's working. He's stripped down to his pants, revealing a surprisingly lean, muscular build, pale skin smeared with oil and grease, as well as the other expected aspects to working with primitive machines that haven’t learned to treat metals to be frictionless and need artificial lubricants. It would be enough to give any safety official nightmares, since he's welding using no protection at all bar bare skin, but it doesn't seem to worry him in the slightest. He’s almost completed dismantling the turbines already.
This would be easier if he had some help. As fast as he can work, he's skipped the theoretical stage and needs to do everything with two hands and almost no tools, the tools he did have being clunky and crude rather the precision instruments. None the less, he was making reasonable progress. In a week, he'd have a flying castle, though a rather haphazard one.

Alucard
He draws the massive long sword he carried from somewhere in his coat, despite the fact that there wasn’t enough room in it for the blade, and presses it into The Count’s tiny, stunted hands. After a moments consideration, he does the same with the two guns, “Just do what comes natural.” He says, eyes narrowing as he sees the ridicules army rushing towards him. To anyone not in full possession of the facts, he had little doubt the two massive vampires and what could generously be called their pet looked positively heroic facing the entire army by themselves without any sign of fear. Which was positively a ringing endorsement of the statement that looks could be deceiving.
“Shall we agree, then, that no quarter is to be given. Should they beg surrender, they shall receive no mercy. They shall be slaughtered to the last, like the livestock they are.” He says, his long, red tongue licking the tips of his fangs, then steps forward, facing the onrushing horde squarely.
“You are all already dead. You were from the moment you glimpsed me. I shall kill you all in moments, and forget you all moments after.” He promises, placing his hands together in a way that gives him only a slot to look through, then seems to just dissolve. His gloved hands fall to the ground, along with his head, still smiling that terrible smile, then even they are gone, leaving no sign of the terrible vampire at all.
Then he’s standing beside Dracula once more, looking almost gangly, lean as a blade, and strangely proportioned, so that his arms were far too long and thin. His hair was now down to his waist, and he was dressed in a black series of belts and buckles, like a restraint suit, almost.
Then he leaps amongst them, swinging his arms through them as he rips them to shreds with his bare hands, his mouth gaping open obscenely and catching their blood as it splashed, like a child catching snowflakes as he rips them apart, almost too fast to be seen.

[Colesign]

D-Dracula

As you bend to your work, there is a rattling noise from the rear compartment. You hear a person grumbling, and then the old, red haired Dutchman who appeared out of nowhere before enters into your newfound laboratory space, dragging behind a thin spike tipped with a complex piece of machinery, currently smoking and spitting out sparks occasionally.

"Right. If I can return via before transport before they change the passwords, then Voila! See, I can deliver a nasty surprise and sneak in in ruckus..."

Abraham Van Helsing's voice trails off as he looks up and notices your presence onboard the ship.

He stares at you for a moment, then at the equipment. "You." He says in a flat, deadly tone. Then he claps his hands together with a macabre, almost manchildish excitement.

"...Working with science. Or rather you must be an Alter Dracula who chose to pursue the sciences! Ha! At last! An Un-Dead who knows how to use his eternal life!"

A hand comes to rest around the crucifix on his neck, but he does not lift it up yet.

"We are enemies, yes. But would you be willing to hold very important, very pertinent dialogue with no violence involved for the time being?"

There is another slow rumble coming from both the earth below and the sky above.

The Doctor's voice hardens. "We have little time. Ha! You less than me, of course."

Alucard and The Count

From within the Walls of Chapelvania...there arise the Roaring of what sounds like a thousand motorcycles.

Ramps push their way out from the Bascilla portion of the edifices, and with a revving noise, bikes begins zooming out and popping wheelies in midair before landing with loud thumps.

Each one bears a person wearing a trenchcoat, carrying tricked out pistols, and carrying sheathed Katanas over their back. They draw blades and **** pistols as they prepare for battle...

Only to stop as a leader holds up his hand. A Dark-skinned, buzz-cut person with stylish body armor and some sweet, sweet shades.

"Let's see what these Mutha****as got under the hood."

"Vampire Hunter: Blade"

Intones softly, teeth bared in a grin.

[...]

And Alucard doesn't dissapoint.

Appearing in the midst of the Feral Dracula Tribe, he instantly tears through Drag Queen Dracula, that gentle and compassionate Satanic Bloodsucker of the Night, ripping both him and his black batwing boa in half. Before the other Draculas can react, he plunges both his arms into the chest of Wolfman Dracula, and rips out the beasts heart with savage fury.

All Feral Draculas Recoil at this display of...uncharismatic savagery. Then angry orders comes from the Comm System of Space Dracula.

"Vhat are you Vwaiting for, fools!" He shouts. "Destroy him! Vwe have led armies of ze Cross to Butcher Millions in life , and struck terror into ze superstitious chattel in death! Ahnd Vwe Shall Triumph over Zis...Animal! And Zen We Shall Finish Off Ze So-Called Vampyr Hunters!"

And with that, a vast majority of the Draculas turn into either mist or clouds of bats which bear down upon Alucard, the King of All Vampires!!! Space Dracula curls his hands into claws, and robotic tentacles tipped with wicked needles sprout out from his Tank Unit. Wizard Dracula throws a fireball, and Antimatter Dracula cringes from within his containment forcefield.

"No One Touch me! Don't any of you touch me, you...you Baryonic Scoundrels!"

[darkblade]

The King knowing that he's more than likely become an accidental victim of Alucard's rampage moves away from the main gate. Instead he finds himself a barren piece of wall on the other side of the chapel and goes to scale it.

[Cracklord]

Dracula
He smiles. "Van Helsing, in the flesh." He says, his lips curling away from his pointed fangs into what could very much be a genuine smile, and he stands up, rising to his full, imposing height. "Excuse my sorry state, you have caught me quite unprepared for company. I'd offer you a seat, but I have nowhere for you to sit yet. Or any refreshments at all, for that matter. Still, no need for ceremony between us." Taking the huge pitcher of water he had drawn and was using to clean the machinery, he dunks his head in it, soaking throughly, then pulls it out, shaking it like a dog and sending droplets of water flying in every direction, splattering the engine. But he's cleaner, at least, if making no attempt to put a shirt on.
"All things have their time. Myself as much as yourself. Long past now, I regret to say. But if I can usher in the next generation, well perhaps I served some small purpose. As for enemies, once we were, but the quarrels of yesterday always seem less than they were with the wisdom of hindsight. We have both moved on. I have learned that any empire I built would fall, as surely as humans themselves will. No, it is in our descendants that we must place the hope of the future. It's they who shall inherit the earth."

Alucard
He's enjoying himself, and quite lost all way of telling friend and foe in his pleasure at the red pounding haze of war. His thin arms and mane of hair were matted with gore. Blood and bits of flesh drooled from his gaping jaws. It was so rare, in his long existence, that he gets to enjoy himself like this. Nothing compared. He'd killed hundreds in the last few minutes, smashing, clawing and biting and tearing in an orgy of bloodletting and slaughter.
His body was near to bursting with vigor. It was as though a storm were tearing through the tightly packed enemies. pieces of men were tossed through the air in every direction, severed limbs, heads still contorted in expressions of surprise and terror, hands still clutching the hilts of their weapons, all trailing streamers of blood.
The killing was not swift, but it was relentless, tearing the army apart like a curtain and scattering the few that remained in every direction. He fights with savage and brutal ferocity, not to mention extreme cruelty, rarely striking to kill until his target has been totally disabled and humiliated, yet he seems everywhere at once, killing as many as ten at a time with no sign of effort, or anything at all except a hideous joy.
Taking Baker Dracula he rips the head away with a crunch of cartilage and a torrent of blood. He flings the grisly trophy amongst the men, still holding the corpse like a ghastly marionette, then bends to drink the red fountain from the neck as he turns on the next foe, Water-Skiing Dracula (FULLY CUSTOMIZABLE! MANY OTHER FUNCTIONS!) who he beats until he's pounding wet chunks of bone into the ground without even pausing his meal.
Space Dracula, from the safety and comfort of his moonbase, watches with dismay as his robotic duplicate is torn from his tank unit and shredded despite it's lightning vision, and Alucard's fury and savagery grows as he realizes he's been decieved, that it was actually a Draculabot he killed.
However, though the leader had escaped him, there are many more to glut himself upon. Next to fall is Mutant-sharkman Dracula, then future Dracula (In space, there is no sunlight), Radical frisbee Dracula, a-COUNT-ant Dracula, and all the many base-ball themed Draculas.
And so the red dream goes on and on. Some try to fight back, utilizing all their reserves, only to find whatever they fell back on, his reserves were greater still. And the red dream went on and on, so much that it seemed as though it would go on forever. He'd spilled an ocean of unclean blood, and continued to tear and rend and rip and gorge. Until at last, after ten minutes of it, the dream came sharply to an end as he crushed dinoDracula's head beneath his leather riding boot.
Nothing stirred. Nothing moved. There was nothing left.
On a mound of corpses nearly twenty feet high, Alucard stood like a statue, hands still dripping with blood, his chest heaving with exertion, his body caked in gore. Everyone of the distorted pictures had stood before him, and everyone of them had fought with the same pride. And every single one had died. Draculii of all shapes and sizes, many of which were, and would remain, un-named. Some had fought with the ferocity of demons, the cunning of the ages, the power of their blood. Skeletons in and ghosts like wraiths who had attacked the very souls that composed his essence. Monsters of all shapes and sizes, from every corner of imagination.
He'd cut through them all like a combination harvester going through a field of wheat. Like buzzsaw.
His brows are shadowed, as he recovers, from both his bloodlust and the toll fighting like that had taken upon him. And he's still not satisfied.
At last he looks up.
"Not bad." He says, growing stronger as he ingested their souls, their power, such that it was, added to his own. "Not bad at all. Next."

[Colesign]

The Universe Suddenly Explodes Due to Too Much Awesome! The End.

...

...Just Kidding.

Kiva Dracula!!!

You scale up the side of the Chapel in stealth. Your armor protects you from directly touching the Holy Structure, but all the same, it psychologically feels like climbing the side of the Chernobyl Plant post-meltdown in terms of Holy.

From a side window near the top of the Basilica portion, you can hear a set of murmurs, then slow, nuanced chuckling. If you wish, you can eavesdrop, or continue upward to where the sound of machinery is.

D-Dracula

Van Helsing ***** an eyebrow at your ideas. Grand Ideas, Far Thinking Ideas, coming from a man, who last he saw him, was making war upon civilization.

He inclines his head slightly. "Well, well. As a human, I still fear the methods you may use to achieve your future...but as a Scientist, I applaud your vision. If I knew that incarnations of Dracula like yourself existed...well, that is Talk of What Could Have been, no?"

He gestures to the window outside as the ground and sky rumbles, and more red gaps appear in the sky. "But everything shall be for naught soon unless action is taken."

From within the bowels of the ship, an unearthly 'Neighing noise' resounds, echoing down the corridor. Blood drains from Van Helsing's face.

"And time is running out. Tell me, Count, what do you make of this strange version of Wallachia? So many versions of yourself, and so many strange people, people familiar yet bizzarely distorted?"

[Colesign]

Alucard

You stand above those piles of corpses in triumph. Practically none have survived: Antimatter Dracula cringes among the corpses, trying to back away from the charnel pit: Grey Dracula's large, black eyes blink as he tries to hold his green, alien fluids in from where he was disemboweled.

And a rather ordinary looking Dracula, chest torn open, lies at your feet, blood soaking his features...and smiles delightedly like a child at Christmas time.

"You've come at last!" He gasps, dark eyes shinning. "My death!"