Melchiah, the youngest brother, took his first five dozen childer to the decay that was the southwestern forest ruins, where they tunneled and bred like rabbits, scavenging and building. 
Zephon, the youngest sister, took her children and took over the humans' most feared weapon, the Schallkirchturm Cathedral of the mideast, skittering up its sides in the dead of the night and slipping through the gun slits, mummifying the soldiers inside with their venoms and wrapping them in bloodsilk. The resounding pipes used to crush vampires' bones with sheer infrasound, were split and clogged with bloodsilk, and the surviving humans were never heard from again.
Rahab, the middle brother, came upon a series of flooded abbeys and buildings in the Eastern Lake, and situated his first few dozen childer above the clear depths in the cliffside caves, where they reproduced (eugh), and gradually changed to adapt to their watery depths, shunning the sun for all its damned yellow worth as they traveled into the flooded buildings to repair them and research countless things.
Dumah, the third oldest brother, took his own and settled down in the frozen north, building a large city and forming a five-state republic. Humans have tried to remove him, but his complete physical bulk and sheer numbers have sent them packing each time.
Turel, the reclusive and stoic one, took his kids and went south, living high in the mountains and developing a love for the sun.
Sachluph, the second oldest and a girl, took her children and went for the southern islands, where the sun shines the brightest.
Raziel, the oldest of the seven and the wisest, ignored his siblings' quarrels and went into the Northeastern Forest, where he took his "father's" sword. He only produced a few independent childer.
 

The three human countries were heavily armed and trained well.
Dunkelheim of the far west used fiery revolvers and heated pikes to burn the enemy.
Uschtenheim of the midwest used large axes to chop in half and water-coated arrows to melt.
Willendorf of the northeast used serrated pikes and hand-cranked guns to defend themselves.
 

One of Raziel's childer, a woman by the name of Zola, had awoken in the human republic of Dunkelheim. He had bestowed her with a rare vampiric gift. Immunity to the sun and its cheery rays of searing agony was indeed a good thing, given the fact that she was right on top of a steep balcony in the early morning. At one of the highest points in the city of towers, she could see the farmland encircling the thin towers and clotheslines, with thick steps running in between the towers at various heights. People wandered these steps and lines like acrobats, merchants, farmers and business owners, along with soldiers. Zola fixed the black wrappings around her ponderous chest and adjusted her denim shorts. Her raven black hair shot off from her scalp in a wave of dry spikes over her brow, and her hollow yellow wolf's stare pierced the air. She stood up, her webbed, serrated claws shining and her thick toe claws glistening. 

Zola wandered towards the centre of the capital, going deep towards the middle floors of the towers, passing through small coffee joints, clothes shops, and small mercantile niches, until she finally reached her destination. It was a rather small store just outside the presidential palace, home to an old vampire by the name of Fredarico. 

Fredarico, a vampire with long white hair and a bushy white beard, had developed two large canines that usually got caught in his prey, which consisted of rats, pigs, kids and the mentally challenged. He was old, slow and lazy. A bum of bums, to say the least. But he had a job for her, and a story to tell, too. She had recieved a letter carried by his pet raven while she was in Melchiah's territory. 

She stood before him, as he lay on his side snoring. Rat's fur was caught in his canines, and his yellow robes were clenched tightly about his withered frame. She coughed and bellowed a bit, getting his attention quickly. He awoke with a start in his dark abode, snorting and coughing. He looked up at her and blinked twice, his mind not registering the concept of an actual being in sight. He then rubbed his eyes and raised a brow, his tiny eyes shining. Zola sighed. "It's me, Fredarico. What job can you offer me now?" 

Fredarico shook his head and grinned with a laugh. "Oh ho ho, sorry 'bout that! Oh, you got my letter, I take it?"
Zola nodded. "You have a job and a story for me? Both better be good. And quick."
The old fart sat up, crossing his arms and legs with a nod. "That I do. Now, the job was offered by Raziel himself, your creator! He wants all applicants to arrive at his home by this Saturday, at midnight. There you'll recieve your job, alongside a load of other hired hands. He'll pay the one to complete the job alive a lot of cash. Now for the story."
Zola arched a brow at this. Raziel? He usually takes care of things himself. He must not want to lose his head, if the job is that dangerous. Does he know I'll be arriving? He's lose his sanity if I do. All the better...
Fredarico cleared his throat and coughed up a ball of rat fur. "Heugh... Here we go... Now, I've heard a rumour from the ravens in Dunkelheim that a particular vampire, one of the oldest, is going about and wreaking havoc with the humans, changing domestic pigs and sheep into vampires and raising up hordes of mutants with swamp gases collected in leather bags. He might be the one Raziel wants dead, but I'm not too sure, and neither are the ravens. But this old vampire seems to travel far and wide, going between the two continents and living at the shallow sea of Baltas for extended periods of time. That's all the ravens have told me."
Zola sighed and pat Fredarico on the head. "Good man. Here's fifty pounds, now go buy some blood sausages for yourself, hear?"
Fredarico grinned at Zola and nodded vigourously, as she leapt across the gap between the towers and left for the farmlands outside the city. 

After an hour of traversing the towering city blocks, Zola finally walked the dusty road, watching the world around her. She could smell everything within a five-mile radius of her, and she smelled nothing but maize and wheat. The grasses rolled on for miles, a vast sea of plants. Zola knew that at the end of the road lay an endless wall, guarded closely by Dunkelheim soldiers. 

She reached the wall and hid in the crops, studying the soldiers as they walked the length of the wall. Each soldier wore leather armour with a chain mail vest, armed with two revolvers and a pike. The pike was heated up with a special battery pack, and the bullets used in the revolvers would burst into liquid flames upon contact. Instant, agonizing death, in other words. She leapt onto the walkway behind the wall and hopped over, faster than the humans could see. The world seemed to slow down around her as she sped along. Only the insects seemed to keep track of her. 

She slowed down and caught her breath, studying the landscape of the eastern edge of the wall. She turned north and strode forward. The breeze was gentle, and it blew all around her, giving her a biochemical map of the world around her. She walked over the cropped grasses (a la sheep grazing), and soon came upon a copse of pines. She grinned a bit, revealing her four huge, formidable canines. She could smell humans coming from the other side, getting closer. She bounded towards the copse and grinned like mad, eyes wide with hunger. 

Once in the copse, she smelled the air again. The humans were two miles off, and they seemed to be a trio. She smiled and assumed her hunting guise. Independent vampires each had their own unique way of doing things. Clan vampires had basic clan-based hunting techniques. Dumah's brood could crudely control gravity and weaken their prey from strain. Zephon's childer would lay out intricate bloodsilk snares and nets to suffocate and capture for later feeding. The techniques were pretty much endless. But Zola's was truly unique, and she was still perfecting it. It was a part of the lure classing, of the lure-snare-chase vampire hunting classification system. 

Zola squatted down and placed her hands on her knees, slowly assuming the mist-covered appearance of a wooden hut, with a table and three chairs inside, and a stone plate piled high with food. The food was the lure, and the travelling trio was the prey. 

The three men were famished; after three days of travelling, they had lost their food packs the day before to vampiric hogs. The dark red blobs with bloodied tusks had fallen to their scavenging instincts and blinded sense of smell. The trio wandered into the copse and realized that a mist had fallen around the cluster of pines, and that a sweet smell was close by. The three merchants wandered deeper into the pines and found the hut, newly built and quite pleasant to the eye. The three merchants entered, eyeing the food with happy leers. Twitching fingers held up to snatch it all up, leers shining and grins evident. They sunk their hands into the blood sausages and meat, slowly becoming aware of the chuckling echoing through the hut. They stopped and looked around, the pallor in their faces giving way to a cold sweat. Then the interior of the hut began to change drastically. 

"Kukukukukuku... Here we are, in the woods. You fell for my lure, mortals..." 

The wooden walls and stone floor gave way to soft red, pink and blue flesh, pulsing and quivering, lined with burning mucus. The merchants fell into one another, compressed by the gastrointestinal walls around them. The merchants looked at the food they held in their hands. It wasn't food. It was Zola's excrement. The three merchants screamed for mercy, as acidic glyph bile began to pour onto them. Zola's dulled laughter filled the suffocating sack of muscle and bile. They felt their fingers and toes melt away into pure blood as their skin and musculature slowly churned away into the same fate. Soon they had been changed into pure blood. 

Zola sat in the copse, a vast, bloated sphere of vampire-woman. Her pale belly, stretched like it was pregnant with a city, was filled with blood, a green spiral glowing and spiraling out from her navel. She got to her feet, her muscular legs bulging to support her immense weight. 

Zola waddled toward the north, satisfied with her hunt. As she left the copse, she thought over her creator, Raziel. Kain had pulled Raziel from the Spectral Realm into a young body, unwittingly letting Raziel devour the soul that had resided in it in life in the process. The body hadn't died not a minute before when Kain had found it after a violent battle between Wallendorf forces and a now-extinct vampire clan. Raziel, after five centuries with Kain, decided enough was enough after his creator was slaughtered by a band of human knights. Taking up the fabled sword known as the Soul Reaver, he hacked away at the knights after finding them in a canyon pass to Wallendorf, looking good in the process. With the leader cowed before him, Raziel slammed the blade down upon the leader's back, killing him in a most gory way and shattering the blade. All that was left was the handle, and yet it seemed to shake with rage at its own weakness. Raziel locked it away in a metal box and took it with him to a retreat he had built earlier. There he lived in seclusion, producing only a few independent childer. He evolved in seclusion, so only his childer knew what he looked like. And they were just like him. Total recluses and eccentrics, but powerful all the same. 

She then remembered her own upbringing, stepping over a dead pig in the process. She had been lamenting in the Spectral Realm, a spectre defending herself against the ghastly hyaenas known as the Sluagh to those who have traversed the realm of souls. Raziel appeared and grabbed her, dragging her through dimensions and into the Material Realm, giving her a corporeal form as a ghost. He placed her within a body, chanting as he did so. The cold flesh slowly grew with warmth and brought forth a living vampire. She was the fifth of eight, the elder middle child. She had died from disease in the cold, but he had found her body and preserved it, bringing her forth two days later. She stayed with him for twenty years before leaving, knowing that she would have to put all her strength into hunting and fighting. Just like Raziel, she could survive the sun, and she could freely traverse between realms, spiritual or physical, vampire or human. She had developed her own evolutionary path, one of a slight insect persuasion. Her skin, hardened by the sun, had muscle growing deep under it, like the muscles of an insect's inner shell. Her long claws were serrated, and her lower jaw was split like a snake's, despite being within one set of flesh. But she wouldn't end up like the Zephonim. She would develop her unique gifts when she got the chance. But now, she had to go find Raziel the Recluse. 
 

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Hey, the name Zola is Italian for "ball of earth", and she's developing an insect evolution. Think about it. Ball of earth, insects. DUNG BEETLES! Well, they roll around balls of  poo, but you get my drift, right?