[img]http://i.imgur.com/6it2Rjl.png[/img]

"[color=921111][b]Ngh... nghhh... what in the name of... where am I? How long has it been...[/b][/color]" Katarina came to, bound as she was by hand and foot inside some black abyss, a void that seemed to stretch all about her. Well... not all about her. She could tell she was standing on something hard, something warm and wooden on the flesh of her bare feet, with the odd splinter digging into her heels. She was bound in a sarcophagus, that was it. She remembered dimly the events that brought her into this sarcophagus - the battle with the thrice-damned Grail Knight, the flames that engulfed her body as she screamed her defiance in the face of certain defeat, her broken form carried secretly by Franz into the darkest chambers of the Tower of Spires, even as it crumbled to dust and splinters around them. And then... she slumbered. It must have been centuries, she thought, as she looked around aimlessly in her little wooden box. Closing her eyes and forcing her vision to twist and change to that of the vampire, she opened her eyes to see the life signs of what seemed to be a crowd of smallfolk standing about her, on all sides. Frowning, Katarina reached out and touched the lid of her sarcophagus - it was sealed tightly shut, by something that wasn't about to move in a hurry. Trying to calm the rising tide of panic, Katarina began to murmur under her breath to herself. "[color=921111][b]Okay, Katarina, don't panic, whatever you do. Think... there must be some reason as to why you're surrounded by people in a little wooden box. Maybe they're worshippers? Maybe they need me to tell them to open this damn thing up so I can finally return to the world? Hm... let's try that.[/b][/color]" Shuffling slightly as she moved as best she could inside the coffin, Katarina rapped her knuckles of her left hand on the interior of the sturdy oaken lid. She waited about half a minute, and then did so again. There was no response. Looking down at her bindings, her undead heart skipped a beat - of course, when the Grail Knight had thrown whatever it was that had, well, to all intents and purposes, just about burned her to mist, it of course burned [i]everything[/i]. Even if they were worshippers, they'd probably all die of heart attacks or something... not to mention the bindings weren't the easiest to tear apart. She struggled and struggled, but her blood-starved muscles were simply too weak to do anything. How embarrassing, the old terror of Eastern Europe, the ruler of what was the finest Blood Court in the lands, now reduced to struggling to get out of an oak box... Her rage built and built, and with it the deadened adrenaline began to course through her torpid veins, until... [i]Snap.[/i]
	Her binding about her hands had broken. Blood was a secondary fuel, adrenaline could get her by. She wrenched her legs apart, snapping the bindings about her ankles, and then she finally stood properly, instead of simply being tied in place. It had been an awful long time... placing her hands against the lid of the coffin, she tested the strength of whatever lock was barring her exit. Around her, the crowd of smallfolk seemed to not notice her struggles - either that or they were too busy admiring the coffin [i]to[/i] notice, neither of which would surprise her, given the average attention span of smallfolk such as them. The peasants weren't a bright lot, but they were resolute; they claimed she was the best ruler they'd had - at least to her face - and Neuhausen had prospered under the Red Reign: something that made the pill of defeat even more the bitter to swallow. Grunting with the effort required, Katarina shoved with all her undead might against the lid of the coffin, which flew away... smashing the pane of glass that comprised part of the container in which her coffin sat. The smallfolk about her began to scream and recoil in horror as Katarina stepped out of the coffin, enraged at her new-found understanding of her circumstances. "[color=921111][b]A fucking museum?! Is this where I am?! What am I, some old exhibit to gawk at for your entertainment?! God damn you all, can't you leave a woman to her rest?![/b][/color]" Several of the smallfolk seemed to faint at the sight of her rage - and so they damned well should, Katarina thought - but most of them simply gawped as though they could scarcely believe their eyes. They had come to Lost Haven Museum to see the coffin that was rumoured to be the last resting place of a European vampire according to legend - it was on loan from Warsaw - and now, here was the vampire, in what little of her glory remained on her! The rumours were true! Several of them began to make signs of the cross to ward her away, shouting things in a language which she could only just about remember the meaning of... was it English? Was she in the lands of the hated Sir Henry? She scoffed at their pitiful attempts to sate her wrath, and grabbed one of the nearest by the scruff of their neck, heedless of the shrill alarms that had now begun to blare from the smashing of the glass. The smallfolk she had taken hold of was a young man, possibly in his teens or twenties, his skin white as a sheet and his eyes dilated from fear. "[color=921111][b]You will tell me where I am and what year it is. Now![/b][/color]" Her English was fairly rubbish, all things considered, but it would suffice.
"N-N-New Y-York City... In... uh... A-America! It's 2016!" [i]Wham.[/i] Four hundred years?! And America?! Kat dropped the man on the ground and shook her head in disbelief. What was she doing in America- a shout came from behind her. "Freeze!" She turned to see two men aiming what looked to be advanced guns at her, with the word SECURITY emblazoned on... whatever vest they were wearing. She cocked her head to one side and smirked, shaking her head. "[color=921111][b]Two men with guns? Is that all? I'm almost insulted.[/b][/color]" Despite her blood-starved state, Katarina knew she was more than a match for two men with handguns... she turned to face them fully and grinned a fanged smile, before rushing forward at blinding speed at one of the men, at the same time drawing back her hand and then stabbing forward, her long, sharp nails piercing first the guard's vest, and then carrying forward through the guard's chest, and out of his back in a single thrust. The guard could only groan as his life-force was drained from him, and Katarina bit deeply into his exposed neck, drinking of his vitae and feeling newfound power course through her body. She threw the now-corpse at the second guard, knocking him to the ground under the bloodied body of his comrade, and then took in her surroundings. Large, neo-classical building, with plenty of exhibits... and there, next to her coffin, was Thirst. Her trusted and beloved rapier, which had only once seen its wielder defeated in battle. Walking over shattered glass and surrounded by the terrified onlookers, Katarina reached down and took hold of her blade, its hilt spearing a spike through her palm as it did so, causing Katarina to gasp involuntarily. "[color=921111][b]Yes... You are thirsty, aren't you...[/b][/color]" she murmured to the sword as she felt it grow in power and began to glow with a soft red hint, and a low humming noise. She looked about at the crowd.

"[color=921111][b]Run along now, I'm sure you have people to call upon for your defence. I'm feeling particularly generous... you can even have a head-start.[/b][/color]" She smiled to herself and began to walk in the same direction that the screaming crowds turned and ran, almost as if she were herding them like the chattel they were. Mortals, eh? So predictable!