Her Past, in short story form.
"Katarina, I'll be goin' down into town. Need anything, My love?" Said a burly lumber worker, dressed in classic red plaid and faded jeans. "We need more milk, can you get some from from the Turners? There cows produce the best."
The man scratches his stubbly facial scruff. "'Idn't I just get milk?" He then shrugs dismissively and leans down over his beautiful pregnant wife, who rests on a love seat, to kiss her lovingly on her flushed forhead.
"Make sure you bring some water, Christopher. It's very hot." At this the man nods to his wife, and heads out of their classic log cabin. The screen door swinging open with a creak and whipping shut loudly.
Katarina nervously paced her home, bearing the heavey weight that carrying a child tends to burden one with. The wooden planks creaked and hissed under that same weight. It was midnight, and Christopher still hadn't returned home from town. Her worry began to effect her balance, amongst other things. She took a seat at a small wooden table in the cabin's kitchen. Hours would have passed by. Sitting silently, stroking her bulging belly. Something wasn't right. The air itself had become damp, stale and cool. After a day of firey heat, that wasn't normal.
Eventually, an ambient flickering orange light found it's way into her otherwise dark kitchen. Her drowsy eyes opened wide, and she scuffled her way to the window and peered through it as if it were a portal that held all her life's treasures. Confusion filled her mind as she saw a ring of people dressed in dark robes circling the cabin, holding hands and staring blankly at the ground. Her eyes quickly scanned each face, recognizing each one. They were all towns folk, people she called family. People who have dealt with and or helped raise her up to this point in her life. Only something was different. Their faces were cold, and lifeless, their eyes more black than the night that enveloped each one. Her heart welled up with fear. At that moment she saw him. Christopher. He stared at the ground, holding a torch and standing on the outside of the ring of lifeless and still people. His face looked streaked and damp, as if he were or had been crying. A wimper of fear and confusion escaped her breath in the form of mist, that found itself fogging the freezing pane of glass befor her. The townsfolk's faces lifted up, in an amazingly fast motion, as if at the moment sound escaped, dark life filled each being. Their black eyes all looked at her, she felt as though her soul was being tugged from her chest.
Some short flashbacks of her childhood, running into townsfolks in the woods, as she explored, wearing black robes and standing around rocks filled her mind. She had dismissed it for all these years, blaming it on childhood imaginiation. The town was filled with cultists... Or even worse, it was filled with demons possesing the townspeople.
"Dear God, I need you now..." She whispered to her creator, in a plume of steam through the air.
The cultists laughed out in perfect harmony, their synced voices collectively echoing through the trees around her cabin. "Your God can not save you, Little Katarina!" Each person said with a sadistic voice on their tongues. One man stepped forward from the ring of bodies, one she didn't recognize, his spot was quickly filled with joined hands. He took a breath of air.
"Katarina! The time has come. The work of this town has come to a finish. They have raised you, Orphan Girl. Married you! And now the lone plant bares fruit. It is time for the reaping! The Anti-Christ has been conjured! And it will bring this world to it's knees!"
As the strange man ranted maniacally, Katarina readied a hunting rifle. Aiming for the man's head, and letting off a bullet with a burst of fire, and a large bang. The bullet smashed it's way through the glass, and cut through the air with vicous intent, and found it's mark quickly. The forhead of the stranger. A silhouette of liquid sprayed from the man's forhead as he fell back in almost slow motion towards the ground. Befor the body landed it vanished befor her eyes. Her stunned expression was quickly replaced with a shocked one, as the back of her hair was getting yanked painfully. Her head forced to turn and look the gruesome man in the eye. Black blood trickled down his grey face, and the bullet was slowly being pushed from his mending flesh, until it fell with a rattle on the wooden floor below. Without notice the man smashed her face agaisnt the edge of a nearby cabinet, knocking her unconcious and leaving her with a gash along one of her eyes.
Katarina woke to a blazing pain engulfing most of her body. She tried to move frantically, but found herself restrainded to a cold stone alter, missing the night gown she perviously wore. Deep gashes were carved throughout her body, missing major arteries. Her wounds bled into grooves on the alter's surface. Pain and lack of blood was pushed aside by motherly instinct, as she tried to pull her arms free from their steel bindings. All she wanted was to know her baby was alive. Her scrambling, amongst other things, caused the baby to move or 'kick' within her womb, and she sighed in relief to the feeling. She looked down to her large belly to find the skin on it had also been carved apon. A fleshy pentagram now took up residence on her stomach. Blood trickled from the intricate wounds and dribbled down the round of her torso. It was then that she felt eyes apon her. The same cicle of eyes that surrounded her in her home. Katarina was a key part in some ritual... or was she holding the key within her? She didn't know, or care. All she could prey for was her child's safety. The collection of cultists murmered quietly in some diobolical chant.
"God, please, as all I love; You, and my child... Please save my baby!" She screeched to the heavens, twinkling above the darkened treetops.
At that moment, perhaps not even god it's self could react quickly enough. A cold dagger sank into the flesh of her side, it's only resistance was the blood that sprayed from her wound, trying to push the dagger free. Ofcourse that wasn't the case. Katarina shrieked to the pain of the steel ripping her open. Her eyes caught the stange man again, standing above her as he slid the blade out of her wound, and licked the red liquid from it's edge. Afterwards he stabbed the blade into her thigh, for safe keeping. The stange man produced a vial of black liquid, that he uncorked, and swayed under his notrils, as if it were a fine wine. The man then plunged his hand, vial and all into the large gash on her stomach. Black mist began spewing from all of her cuts and wounds. The pain of her damages were overshadowed by what seemed like agaony it's self, the feeling one might imagine hell would cause. Her conciousness began to fade, her last sight the blurred vision of a child being pulled from her body, as blood and black mist filled the air.
Katarina woke some time later, her body's wounds healed, and replaced with grey scars. Her skin pale and white. She scrambled her self to her feet, having being covered only by a thin sheet of fallen leaves. She didn't bother to look for cloths, she stumbles out of the woods, naked, confused and filled with a new found rage, she had never felt. She made her way to her cabin, getting dresses and arming herself with her rifle. She made her way to the town, to find it abandonded. Not a single person left. Everything left behind. The stench of farm animal's waste, and rot filled the air. Weeks might have passed, or perhaps months.
Katarina's conviction only grew. Her mind lost to the hatred of her captors, the love of her God, and the need to find her child to save it from whatever life it's meant to lead. Through years and years of searching, killing anything and everything that did not belong in God's world, she became a masterful instrumant of death. Even delving into some minor holy power. Learning to create holy weapons, and unearthing devine artifacts. She became a being of rightous power, and immenent death to all dark beings who apposed her.
Through the years of seaching, she picked up fragments of the cultist's locations, eventually piecing together their where-abouts. And without hesitation, she set out to destroy all those towns fold she once called friends, with her new found skills and rage. Nine years is what it took for her to find them all, holed up in an underground crypts in various places. Each one died by her hands, and would continue to die, as long as she lived. Finally she reached an old crypt. One that supposedly housed her child, and the Stranger.
Her eyes were beautiful, a crystal glowing green. Her black hair flowed down her young alabaster face, in waves that cascaded over her shoulders and down her small, almost frail body. Was this child her's? Was this her daughter. Katarina felt tears welling up in her eyes. She studied the small person, in awe, silently.
"Who is this woman, Crown? She looks like me." the small child asked a figure Katarina had not noticed in the darkeness of the crypt with a small and smooth voice that was almost to wise to be a child's.
"Don't be silly now, Anti. That is your mother, ofcourse." the man said, while slowly walking up behind the child, resting his clawed hands on each of her shoulders. "She's come to take you away from me, or so she thinks. Hopefully she will stay, instead. So we don't have to kill her."
"Oh, please stay Mommy! I have dreampt of meeting you my whole life! Me and Mr. Crown have been waiting for you for so long, Mommy." the child said cheerfully, with excitement in her crystaline eyes.
"I will stay with you, my child. I have searched all these years... Just to see your face." Katarina's arms opened up and she kneeled down, hoping for a hug from her child, as tears rolled down her cheeks and over her smile.
The Stranger held onto Anti skeptically. His eyes covered by the shade, but she could feel him looking her over. Contemplating. Eventually he let go of little Anti, and she sprinted to her mother's embrace. He believed Katarina wanted nothing more than to be with her daughter. Katarina hugged her daughter tightly, steady streams of tears running from her eyes into her daughter's long onyx loches of hair. After several minutes she pushed back from the hug and held her daughter's face in her hands, looking into her eyes.
"Mommy loves you so much... More than anything on this world... Mommy is so sorry." she said, through slight sobs and with choked words.
"Sorry for what Mommy?" Anti said, with curiousness in her beautiful eyes. Crown knew then wat was happening, and tried to react, but befor his body even flinched a loud crumbling snap was heard, and instead of looking at the back of the child's head, he was looking into her dimming eyes. Katarina had snapped her own daughter's neck. Crown wailed in pain and clutched his head as his body broke down into black mist and he whirled off.
Katarina preyed to her God for her daughter's safety, and burned her body. There are no words to describe her pain, only actions, and she would spend them killing everything evil she can.
Presently, Katarina is part of The Inquisition. She met Inquisitor Phibes many years after her daughter's death. He saved her from an overwhelming covenant of vampires Since then she spends her time hunting for The Inquisition. Her life, while not bland, is in lack of anything other than her quest to purify the world.
Katarina is awkward, cold, and stuborn. She is rutheless, and will never stop at completing her goals. However difficult some may be. She is hard to talk to, because she has poor social skills. Many call her insane because of her ritualistic relationship with her God, and the Bible. Katarina isn't bad, and she'll try her hardest to hold a conversation if one presents its self.
Powers & Abilities
Katarina doesn't have much in the way of 'powers.' She can summon weapons to her hands at will, with a flash of holy energy. And she has a natural resistance to disease and poisons. Many will still harm her, but only incapacitate her for short times. Her body cant take much more damage than an average human, and heals more quickly. These abilities are minor however, and just effects of the Lichblood.
- Inquisitor Phibes. Her boss.
- Her God.