Feuds Young Dracula Files

Behold the secrets of the Dracula clan.

We are vampires.

As told by four vampires...

and one hideously drooling drudge,

each with their own side of the story to tell.

Vladimir Dracula.

Also known as Vladdy...

Yes!

..Vlad

and the Chosen One.

The spiritual leader of the world's vampire clans.

What an honour when I, Bertrand de Fortunesa,

was entrusted with guiding Vlad in fulfilling this destiny.

A momentous responsibility...

..and one I wish to share with future vampire generations.

So, I will set down here, in this journal...

..an account of the events that shaped Vlad's rise to glory...

HE GROANS

..and how, under my tutelage, he was an unprecedented success.

In keeping with most vampire clans,

the members of the Dracula family possess the most abhorrent qualities.

Back-stabbing treachery...

You devious, conniving witch.

..unscrupulous craving for power...

SHE LAUGHS EVILLY

..and a taste for random acts of cruelty.

RENFIELD GASPS

A family too busy warring with each other to see the bigger picture.

In troublesome times,

it was essential that the family put all petty infighting aside,

especially since Vlad's succession as the Chosen One

had brought all manner of dark, hostile forces out of the woodwork,

waiting for the opportunity to take the Draculas down.

Danger was lurking everywhere.

Which meant...?

Getting to know your enemy -

who's who in the great vampire dynasties.

Of all the clans, the Barak worry me the most.

They're highly respected and hold great influence.

If they go against me, it would be hard to maintain order.

They do have a weakness.

During the East Blood War,

they secretly betrayed their allies in return for leverage in the...

< Renfield!

< Where's my fang floss?

Vlad needed to cram up as quickly as possible

on past and present feuds...

..and expert advice was required.

We're studying vampire clans.

Excellent!

I could tell you some wonderful stories.

I don't want stories. I want facts,

and Bertrand knows those.

Right.

I'll leave you to it, then.

'Vlad was right.

'It was the counsel of Bertrand de Fortunesa he needed now,

'not that of his father.'

To be fair, in his time,

the Count had been one of the great perpetrators

of some of the bitterest blood feuds in vampire history.

But his new circumstances,

living cheek by jowl with breathers,

didn't exactly allow for that sort of thing.

Once upon a time, he could have locked horns

with the most ruthless and blood-thirsty Carpathian vampires.

Now, it more likely to be spanners at dawn

with a competitively-priced plumber.

I, the Prince of Darkness,

and the scourge of all men,

hereby declare a feud against...

..the...

Branaghs.

I promise to destroy and utterly crush you

in the most gruesome and unspeakably evil ways possible.

Yours sincerely,

Count Dracula.

Hmm. You don't think it lacks the..

personal touch, do you?

Good point.

PS...

I shall drain

all the fat

from your cows.

Oh, so eloquent, Master!

I shall deliver it myself.

Hardly the most exciting chapter in the history of the vampires.

'Only a complete dullard could get worked up over that.'

And so,

to the most thrilling chapter of...

My Life In Drudgery,

Memoirs Of A Renfield.

The vital role I played in my master's feud

with a neighbouring clan,

the Branaghs,

and, in particular,

my master's struggle to defeat the leader of their tribe.

Stop!

What are you doing, you cretin?

Now deliver it.

Master? 'Tis done.

Hmm.

Destroy,

crush,

gruesome,

drain?

Oh, it's from Mr Count up the hill.

You know I said I'd noticed a bit of a smell.

Oh, please, don't make me go up there again.

I know his ways are a little eccentric.

-Eccentric? He's a total nutter!

-Graham!

Just because their ways are a little bit different,

doesn't mean we shouldn't try and make them feel welcome.

OK. I'll get my things.

It was at times like this

that all the toil, sweat and tears became worth it.

Because I,

Renfield,

was lucky enough to witness the titanic struggle

between two of the mightiest clans

of the 21st century.

He's here, Master.

The Branagh male, armed with bit of stick.

-And rubber!

-Out the way, out the way!

Well, that should be no match for the might of Count Dracula.

You did say that about the porcupine, Master.

Oh, just let him in, Renfield.

Ah, Branagh.

I take it you received my missive.

Yes, I did.

And listen, next time, just pick up the phone.

I'll give you my number.

A-ha!

Disarmed. Now I have the power.

PLUNGER POPS

MR BRANAGH GASPS

HE CRIES OUT

That will teach these peasants to mess with Count Dracula.

Quite heroic, really,

the way that jumped-up toilet dredger kept plugging away...

I think I've found the cause of the blockage.

Oh, Gertrude!

-You, get back in the slime pit!

-I beg your pardon?

I've just done you a favour!

A favour? We're supposed to be having a feud!

All in vain, though,

because my Master was always a step in front,

with various counter-moves.

Finished!

Take his competitive tent pitching.

Suck on that, peasants!

Oh, suck on what?

Oh, that? Oh, I see!

Are you sure it's quite safe?

Safe? Is my tent safe?

TENT CREAKS

Renfield!

Yes, Master?

You shall be the first to try out my tent.

Oh, thank you, Master!

Thank you!

HE BABBLES INCOHERENTLY

Just get in the tent!

Oh.

Oh, this is nice.

RENFIELD SCREAMS

I think that's 1-0 to the Branaghs, eh?

Master!

'Then there were cook-offs, to prove who kept the finest kitchen.'

Look, why don't we all just calm down and enjoy a nice hot dog?

Because we don't want your peasant food.

-We shall prepare our own feast!

-Barbecued slug, master?

'Only one winner there, obviously.'

It had already been the most exciting day of my life.

Slugs for tea

and then two hours spent in a blind, sweaty panic

in an old tent.

But would you believe it? It got even better!

I've always wondered - how does it feel to be a loser?

I don't know. You tell me, Mr Floppy Tent!

Right! That's it!

THUNDER CLAPS

I challenge you to a duel!

You know what, matey? I accept!

You and me, outside, now.

Dad? What's going on?

Chloe, Mr Count and I were just going outside

to talk about grown-up things.

But it's raining.

Ah, so it is.

Why don't we have our talk in the crypt?

Nothing for you to worry about, Chloe.

COUNT YAWNS

You're going down, pal!

To the crypt, so we can sort this out reasonably.

A fight to the death,

using any means necessary.

And contrary to what you might think,

the Master doesn't always use extreme violence

in search of victory.

Oh, no!

Although he is very good at it.

But he's even better

at being sneaky.

I have to admit, I was wrong to fight you.

That's very big of you, Count.

I must admit, I was a bit embarrassed myself.

So, let's set our differences aside, for the sake of our sons.

Cos after all, we care about their feelings, don't we?

Absolutely.

Shake on it?

Well done, Dad. I'm proud of you. You're the best.

HE LAUGHS EVILLY

I am the best father!

In your face, peasant.

A great victory,

won with deceit and cunning.

Sad, really.

The Count's talent for evil scheming,

wasted on a breather whose most evil attribute

is his taste in lemon-coloured leisure wear.

But the bigger worry was that hostile elements

wanted to exploit the Count's altered circumstances.

He had swapped a castle in Transylvania

for suburbia, and all that comes with it.

And there were rumours that this new life had changed him.

To make matters worse, the vampire press got in on the act,

with a whole host of accusations -

the Count had lost the plot,

forgotten how to conduct a proper feud,

even gone soft on slayers.

As I said, mostly false.

Well, sort of.

< Another one!

I can't bring myself to look at it.

Renfield, read it to me!

-"Sofa for sale."

-No, no. The...

-Ah!

-Yes.

"Fangs Ain't What They Used To Be For Soft-On-Slayers Sham Vampire."

It's worse than I thought.

"Anyone remember the chapter in the vampire's manual

"about giving slayers an easy ride?

"Or the one about allowing them to escape?

"Or even the one about letting them live in your castle?

"We at The Vampire Times don't remember any of those chapters.

"But it seems the blood-sucking rulebook has been rewritten

"by that once great Prince of Darkness,

"Count Dracula, 608,

"currently living a reclusive existence in northern England."

Shoddy journalism. I'm six hundred and...six, if I'm a day.

Continue.

"Once, he was known for his fierce feuds,

"his violent vendettas, his terrible tiffs..."

That's more like it!

"Now, he's known as nothing more than a fangless joke.

"What is not so funny, though, is this long-in-the-fang's insistence

"that he is father of the Chosen One.

"So, dear readers, The Vampire Times says

"it's time for us all to shun this bat with no bite

"who has brought nothing but disgrace upon the cape."

The constant sniping about the Count in the press

is no laughing matter.

'In these difficult times, having the Chosen One in their midst

'meant a great opportunity for the Dracula family,

'but it wasn't without danger.

'The path to glory is always paved with feuds and clashes

'with unscrupulous opponents.

'Friends became enemies,

'deeply unhappy at the turn of events

'that had led to Vladimir Dracula being named the Chosen One.

'So, it was crucial that Vlad should pay attention

'to what his mentor, Bertrand de Fortunesa,

'taught him about the art of feud.

'When to strike and when to hold back.

'When to opt for vampiric force and aggression

'and when a war of words might work better.

'In fact, these are lessons his father, the Count,

'could have benefited from learning, too.'

Don't imagine for one second I'm taking this

libellous claptrap lying down.

I'm the Prince of Darkness, scourge of generations,

evil incarnate.

So what you going to do?

-IN DEEP VOICE:

-I'll tell you what I'm going to do...

I'm going to write a very strongly-worded letter

to the editor.

To the editor. The Vampire Times. Dear Sir...

'Contrary to the vile, libellous filth printed in the pre-packaged

'fish and chip paper you call a publication,

'I am neither a joke, a has-been, nor soft on slayers.

'In fact, I pride myself on my foul and unpleasant attitude towards

'these interfering blood-pulsers with their garlic necklaces

'and pointy sticks.'

Little pig, please let me in.

'In my crusade against slayers, I've terrorised them

'in their pathetic tin-pot hovels.'

No, no, said the little pig, not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin.

HE CRIES OUT IN FEAR

-IN DEEP VOICE:

-Then I'll huff and I'll puff

and I'll blow your house in.

'I've hidden myself in their garlic-stenching innards'

I'm protected inside your body, slayer!

This is fantastic!

I haven't felt the sun in...

almost 600 years!

'I've even taken their empty-headed family members hostage.'

-BONE CRUNCHES

-Eeurgh.

Sorry.

MICE SQUEAK

SCUTTLING

Oh.

Tut, tut, tut.

Naughty, naughty.

So you see, I am dark

and thoroughly dastardly in my dealings with the slayers.

Downright cheek, therefore, to publicly accuse me

of going soft.

There'll be no more talk of peace

between vampires and slayers.

The war must end.

Slayers will always be our enemy.

We shall bite them on the beaches, we shall bite them in the fields

and in the streets, we shall bite them in the hills -

we shall never surrender!

As if a black-hearted meanie like Count Dracula would ever

let a slayer escape.

Well, there was that one time when...

Let the boy go. It's me you want.

I won't put up a fight.

Dad, no!

Don't do it, Dad. It's not worth it.

Oh, it's worth it, all right.

But it's too easy if he won't put up a fight.

Where's the fun in that?

We'll meet again, I promise you that.

Can't wait.

COUNT LAUGHS

I can't believe you just let a slayer go.

It was just that once.

After all, it's no fun when they give themselves up.

There's no sport, no thrill of the chase!

And then there was the time you let one move in.

Is it true?

Are you a slayer?

How was I to suppose to know the girl what Vlad had brought home

wasn't just an annoying half-fang but a slayer, too?

-Get out. I don't

-ever

-want to see you again!

Go!

But my point is, I demand an immediate apology!

PS - Get my age right, you complete bunch of morons.

Of course, there was one member of the Dracula Clan who didn't

need teaching about feuding from anyone.

'The Count's insignificant daughter, Ingrid.

'She liked nothing better than to spend

'her every waking moment quarrelling.'

Quiet, Mistress Ingrid,

I'm trying to read the map.

Don't tell me to be quiet. Insect-biter!

'There were regular rows with Renfield...'

That is it!

Don't you touch me, you fungus!

-It's a bat!

-Creep!

-Witch!

-Puss-face!

-Turn right!

-Conjurer!

-Cretin!

-Freak!

-Foul breath!

-Spider-licker!

-Scab-picker!

-Snot-eater!

Renfield!

'Then there were the frequent fights with her father.'

I hate you more than garlic .

I hope you get tooth decay!

'Not to mention big bother with her little brother.'

Bagsy the tower room.

I don't think so. I'm the eldest, I'm having that one.

-But I called it.

-When?

-In the hearse.

-Right.

Well... I called it before you were born.

So, kiss my cape.

'She's such an expert on the subject, she's offering advice now

'in a video vlog.'

Sisters, our fight for equality

and recognition in the vampire world is just that -

a fight. And not a fair one.

Especially when there's a male heir around.

This is very simple.

Vladimir will have the room.

Brilliant. Oh, Ingrid,

I do believe you're about to chew on that.

This is because he's your favourite, isn't it?

Yes. That's right.

Be sure the odds are against us,

but that's nothing new.

Victory can be ours and the only way

to win the battle of the sexes

is by a lot of little successes.

However tiny.

You can't seriously think that I'm going to school.

You don't have to go, but I want to.

Just don't tell Dad, OK?

Sure. Don't worry.

Dad!

It's tricky, the brother/sister thing.

With my brother and I, it works like this -

it's a love hate thing.

Deep down, he really loves me and I love...

hating him.

So, it's true, you actually have gone bad.

Chucked out of Home Economics?

What's next?

Not handing in your History assignment?

Have you ever actually bitten anyone?

Don't push me.

You're still the same old puny little Vlad who can't stand

the sight of blood.

'After years of losing out to my beloved brother in every way,

'I finally decided enough was enough.

'The time for talking was over. It was time to take action.'

Ingrid's sharpening a stake, and I think it's got your name on it.

VLAD LAUGHS

Oh, that is priceless.

She's jealous of your power.

Mmm.

She wants to take you out before you become untouchable.

Well, I'd like to see her try.

Do you want me to deal with her?

Deal with her?

No. Bring her on.

A betrayal from within. Terrible.

If Vlad couldn't trust those around him, who could he trust?

His secret notebook?

What to do about Ingrid?

Can I ever really trust her?

It's not like it's ever been easy between us,

not that I don't blame her for being jealous.

I have a little good luck present.

Now, these are pair of ancient brooches

with the legendary Dracula coat of arms.

Oh, wicked.

So Vladdy, my boy, this one's for you.

And Ingrid, it's such a shame you weren't a boy.

Don't you care about my feelings at all?

Oh, Ingrid, silly.

Of course I don't! Now, pack your bags, we're leaving at sunset.

You love that TV more than your children.

Of course I don't.

I just love TV more than my daughter.

But even if it's understandable that she feels hard done-by,

it doesn't make what she's been doing OK.

Tut, tut, tut.

Vlad. Let me go.

'OK, I overreacted, leaving her to fry in the daylight.

'I'm not exactly proud of what happened.'

SHE SCREAMS

'But when a deranged sibling attacks you with a stake,

'you can't take chances.'

But then things got really worrying.

And no-one saw it coming.

Ingrid started being nice.

You don't do hugs!

-I've changed.

-Apparently.

When you left me to burn in the sunlight, I hit rock bottom.

Invariably, I realised that I have to be satisfied with who I am,

and not envy other people.

I think you're going to make a great leader.

How naive can you get.

What my baby brother didn't have the maturity to realise was that

I was even more evil, twice as two-faced,

and with my own army of trained netball ninjas in tow.

We are going to start with the assassination of Vladimir Dracula.

Why?

Because, he's the key culprit.

Soon he'll be so powerful, we'll never be able to oust him.

All those years of being overlooked,

of being treated like

a second-class citizen,

of getting a raw deal,

were finally going to be avenged

by my teenage fan club.

'And what happened?'

Vlad!

Just as one of my vampettes was about to strike...

'..she walked into the sunlight.'

I...hope one day I can do the same for you.

-'That's what you get from working with amateurs.'

-Thanks.

'Although, maybe the way things turned out isn't such a disaster.'

I don't want you to think I've gone soft,

but a girl has to think ahead, and being the sister

of the Chosen One has its benefits, that I fully intend to exploit.

So I'm working alongside him.

For the time being, anyway.

Oh, where to start with making sense of what's needed to get

this lot to put their differences aside

and concentrate on the tasks ahead.

'Vampires and feuding go together like sharp fangs

'and unsuspecting necks, and the Draculas are naturals at it.

'Ingrid needs to choose her battles more wisely,

'so as to help the family survive, not destroy it from within.

'Vlad is starting to focus,

'but his tolerance of breathers doesn't help, because that's

'the kind of thing that attracts even more enemies,

'slayers and vampires alike.

'We must acknowledge that there are plenty of those who would like

'to bring this family down, whether it's other clan leaders

'or elements of the vampire press,

'who will stop at nothing to discredit the Dracula family.'

Ah! Right. An apology.

About time.

"Since the publication of our article

"about a certain Count Dracula,

"it has come to our notice that The Vampire Times was not

"entirely accurate in its reporting."

You can say that again.

"We would like to set the record straight

"and clarify that Count Dracula is indeed 606 years old,

"not 608, as we previously stated in error.

"We apologise for any distress this may have caused."

May have caused.

"As to our claims that he is a disgrace, a has-been

"and a joke, they all stand."

They all stand?

"And we would like to add some new ones.

"He has the handwriting of a two-year-old

"and his spelling is atrocious."

The Count must never know of this.

-COUNT:

-No, he mustn't, must he?

METAL CLANGS

RENFIELD YELLS

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd