You find yourself suddenly standing in a hallway. It is lit by exactly 69 candles along the walls, which appear to be black marble. It is 24' wide x 48' long ending in a curving split going up and one that is sealed by a black iron gate door that leads down. The door has a red marble dragon mounted over it and remains locked...Your host holds the only key. The center of the hall has a 2' wide blacker than black carpet. There are no doors. It's actually kind of stark and harsh....not at all welcoming.

From thin air a dark, rich voice bids you enter and guides your steps up the staircase and to a door that leads you into a study. The study is large! Ornately carved pillars in each of the four corners of the room, green marble fireplace to the left as you enter...between the pillars are shelves of books. In the right hand corner is a desk made of ebony with a massive matching chair. There are two chairs and a small table by the fireplace, along the wall of the door is a bar set into the wall, and stocked completely. There is a dark oak door in the right hand wall. As you settle in a chair, a swirl of darkness catches your eye, and your host appears... His intense deep green eyes regarding you as he leans against the fireplace mantle, wrapped in a long dark, flowing hooded cloak.

He nods slightly as the lights dim, and a crimson nailed, almost delicate hand draws back the hood of his black cloak, to reveal his handsome features. He smiles faintly, revealing a hint of a fang, then begins to speak, his voice soft, dark and compelling.
Welcome to my world... Consider yourself priveleged, for there are not many that I actually invite..
Allow me to introduce myself... I am Nickodemus Bedlam II, and this is my home. I can sense, quite clearly actually, your curiosity... :::wry smirk as he begins to study those long crimson nails::: This is a good thing... Let me be of assistance in this... :::glancing up, those eyes piercing you to the core, as his voice darkens and becomes more compelling::: I insist.

If it wasn't clear before as to what exactly I am, let me take care of that now... :::smiles darkly, revealing a set of razor sharp, gleaming fangs:::
I thought that might make my point... Now then, aside from that, I am also dragon... but that can be dealt with later...

Why are you here..?? ::;dark smirk::: For answers of course... Few in these realms know much of me... ::;slight bitter chuckle::: Including my brother Garis..or his beautiful child, who I happen to care about as much as him, Raveana. The time has come though to change that...
Especially in light of the fact that the three of us now are linked together body, mind and soul for eternity, and have in fact now founded our House.

So... I strongly suggest that you settle back, relax, and let me begin... We have a bit of time before dinner... :::soft hungry chuckle as the feel of invisible hands hold you to the chair and his deep green intense eyes glow slightly with an emerald fire::::

I am, as I have always been...Nickodemus Bedlam II... and for some odd reason, I take a bit of pride in that. What is to follow on these pages is simply my rendition of how the world has treated me in my years upon it. I do this not for recognition, or fame, or even fortune, for I am beyond those things. I do it simply because I can.

To the beginning then.....

My original birth date is lost now in the mists of time, as is the place of my birth, the Castle of Dark Dreams, which was my grandfather's estate high in the mountains. My youth I remember little of, though I do remember, and shall always remember my grandfather, for whom I was named. Even as a small child I adored him for his dark ways, and cold determination. I suppose that my grandfather was a close to a hero as I've ever had. The only other truly clear memory that I have is of my mother, who, fed me on a steady diet of hatred and revenge.

For as long as I can remember though, I always knew exactly what I was... mother made that abundantly clear, as did grandfather later on. It was perhaps the one thing that I knew I could always be sure of no matter what. I believe that I was still fairly young when mother died, though I don't remember shedding any tears at her death. But then again, I wasn't a child who cried...ever. Shortly after that I went to go live with what was left of her family, as grandfather wasn't around at that point, a fact that angered me and added fuel to the hatred that my mother had instilled in me.

I remember the camps clearly enough. I believe that I should mention at this point, as I haven't up to now, that my mother had been gypsy, and it was to her clan that I went to spend the rest of my youth. Living with a gypsy clan when you have nothing else is interesting, especially when the entire clan considers you to be bastard born and a half breed to boot. I fear that my general demeanor didn't much improve their opinion of me, not that I really cared. From the outset, they were aloof, and distant, though they did take pains to see that I was fed, sheltered and clothed. The food and the shelter were acceptable enough to me, but the clothing... I shudder even now as I can still see what I will always consider the coarse rags that I was forced to endure the wearing of. Mother had, in her own way, managed to somehow also instill in me a love of the soft and sensuous materials, and to always look my best, no matter what. Though the rest of the world has seen it as vanity, I never have.

However, mother's clan and specifically the children also perceived it that way, and so I developed a perpetual sneer at a young age, in an effort to keep the snide comments to a minimum. I also managed to, regardless of the coarseness of the material on my body, remain and follow the basics of my nature. This was not appreciated, as I think I've mentioned. In time an understanding was reached however. It was reached when one of the other children dared to call me a worthless... Perhaps it would be best if I did not put those words down here, as the mere thinking of them still makes my blood boil.. What this nasty creature called me however, set off my barely restrained Bedlam temper, and I came a little unglued...all over him.

I still remember the feel of his throat in my hands and the sweet sound of his neck breaking, and of how I laughed. I was 12.

It was at that point that I understood what mother had been saying about the sweetness of revenge, and the power of hatred. Not that I had felt really any hatred of the one that had called me that name, I didn't... All I had felt was a single and driving need to shut him up and prove a point, which I did. That day I showed the entire clan what a Bedlam child was capable of, and from that day until the day that my grandfather arrived with no warning and took me with him, they were terrified of me. That's how I really learned the absolute power of terror, and how easy it is to control large quantities of people with it. The reveling in it came later, much later.

(Castle of Dark Dreams)

Mmmm... I sense the hour grows late... And I would be a most inconsiderate host if I did not offer you a bite... :::dark hungry smile::: After which, if you're still curious, I will be more than willing to continue...

This page last updated 7-5-99
This page re-created 8-25-02