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Hellsing:

   The final hour of your father's life ended not with a fang, claw, or spell. But with a blocking of his heart. Passing away quietly in his bed. Not yet 50 years of age. Passing the mantle, for the first time to the last living hellsing. A female. His daughter.

  For most of your life he had been preparing you. Riding lessons while firing rifles on horse back. Serving away from home commanding British war ships before your teen years. Wrestling in Greece. Hand to hand combat in Asia, where normally, no whites were welcome. By 15 he brought you home. A witch hunt here. A loose werewolf there. Monsters were in short supply by 1745.

  Before the ground had time to settle over his grave there was talk. British emprie now had 13 seats at the parliament table before the King and Queen. The one that had been there since the throat was but a simple black stool. Simple an unassuming. A brass plate that read Hellsing. Polish. Kept. Older then the buildings it had iccupied these many decades.

  When a new royal was born a Hellsing was first to meet it. When a Queen was married she was escorted by a Hellsing. When a Pope passed a dark cloaked figure came to inspect the body. It seemed this family which was everywhere no one knew much about.

   Over 100 years or so it appeared "the good fight" had mostly been won. Monsters seldom ventured out. Except for a stray or two. People started to talk, that they did. Started to doubt if one even had need of these... Hellsing people.

   Maybe the 13th seat was finally ripe for the taking?

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   The Queen, now husbandless had come by yesterday to say goodbye to an old friend and kiss the hand of her last Hellsing. She could hardly stand. Racked with grief. It had been nice to see emotion there. Her Hellsing soldiers, her knights too stoic, and proud to show their pain. But the Queen had... it had been nice.

   Walter tossed a log on the fire next to her. Startling her back to reality. The hum of the crowd growing back to her ears as he put his white gloves back on. Walter was a barrel chested Frechmen. A heavy scared face missing an eye that was sewn shut on his left. His other holding a monocle. His hair slicked back, white and Grey into a ponytail. His arms thick and solid. A pin stripped vest over a thick black sash with two flint lock pistols tucked in. His long legs putting him at 6'2. The stand in father to her over these many years.

   "My Lady Hellsing-" frowning as he got shot a glare from you. Hellsing was her father's title. "Come now my sweet. You are the master of the hunt. By right of brith and your ability I promise you." Going to open the door to air out your father's study where you had been sleeping. The old worn green carpet. Dense dark oak desk. Hardly anyone ever came here. One of many properties. This old mansion hardly ever used anymore. Just for ceremonies like this. "One must show face. I promise we will leave sharp'ish in the morn. Be quick." His shirt tails trailing after him loose and long.

  With that he left it open. Down stairs in the wide elegent ball room of this massive mansion were the sight see'ers, boot lickers, politicians, and future suiters. All wanting to find out about the mysterious hellsings or marry the girl sitting on unimaginable wealth. All in the guise of paying tribute to her father using loose associations at best. Those close had came and went before. But an open wake was tradition. Guawking crows a top a grave.

   Lining the halls were the crowd favorites. Men in custom made maskes and black suits of evil looking armor and unique weapons. Hellsings attire made for hunting monsters... not people. Hellsing guards had to cover their faces. They were volunteers or on loan by nations all over the world.. including this one. While it was very impressive to make the cut it was important that after their 4 years of service they be able to return without their loyalty questioned. The only mark being a black line tattoo running from palm to fore finger. To serve Hellsing was to serve silently.

   There was only 1 Hellsing butler at any time. A position help only by 1 family. The Saints. Walter Saint being the 89th. His own son serving his own nation back in France. His wife, God rest her soul. He would meet again once his time on earth was past.

   As such the maids were made up of widows. A tight group of ladies taken in by the family as an option if their loved one passed. Not to say there were not female Hellsing knights.

   One such Knight hung out on the balcony behind you. Her mask up. The fall breeze on her face. Ashley was a fallen princess. Having ran away from being married off at 13, 7 years ago. Now Married to a Hellsign knight and his commander... poor bastard. She had been Irish royalty but found it more a prison then a title. Taking the Sir name of her husband Bruce as Lock. Ashley Lock.

  She spun the tip of her short sword on the ground as she layed atop the balcony long ways. Threatening to fall off the railing at any momment. Her long wild red curls blowing about her drunk face. She mourned with booze. As well as celebrated with it. "Should just lock the doors and burn the building." She growled after Walter left.

   "Is that your professional opinion?" Came the German. A gorgeous man. Short blonde curls. Bright blue eyes. A suit omwith man inlays and fixtures of gold in his Chimera Armor. The Captain of the guard and who was to be her husband once upon a time. Trained for it. Groomed for it. But at 16 had been flatly beaten by her. Again at 17. At 18 it was clear the future Lady Hellsing, despite his training could not and would not best her. Alas he was also unaware of his own sexual proclivity which would have not allow it. A fact he himself would not accept of himself. Thus he was unmarried as well. Clinging to her in her rise as the now Captain of her knights. "Go. I shall baby sitting our fallen angel."

  "Shall you? That gorgeous face of yours going to manage little old me, Gabriel?" Inviting to threaten him by the superior blade welder to her pretty boy lesser. "Go! If you must. But do not return with a husband or I shall kill him AND me-self!" Throwing her bottle away. A smack heard bellow.

  "Really Ashley!" Her husband Bruce called up.

  "So, very sorry pumkin! I forget myself... Shouldn't you be patroling?" Her husband a massive 6'8 Swedish man looking up at the dangling leg of his wife, Captain, and boss.

  "Aye... don't fall." Came his lovely accent to her harsh one. 

  For all your training, for all your power, money, Army, protectors, and safety tonight Maddam Hellsing... You are going to die. But do not worry. For the drums of war are yet to beat. As your heart grows still. Your story will be one of the coming of monsters. The fall of man and the coming of the Vampire.

   Under your home. Forgotten about. Locked away. Oh so very alive. Swinging away in darkness. Listening. Driven man in isolation. The first monster even defeated by the first Hellsing. The source of Hellsing power. A creature lost to time and even forgotten about by the Hellsings before you is Alucard. 

  So come with me our lady of the hunt. Maddam hellsing. Die and let loose that which is hidden. Remind the world why they use   to   fear   The DARK