UPDATE: 6/16 New Scene added!

Hello. Velcome to my lair. This will be a fanfiction based on Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992) American gothic horror film directed and produced by Francis Ford Coppola, based on the 1897 novel Dracula by Bram Stoker for my original source material.

The characters of Dragon Ball Z will be cast as their respective counterparts. I do not own Dragon Ball Z or Dracula. Both works belong to their respective owners, Francis Ford Coppola, Akira Toriyama and Bram Stoker.

Also, this will not go quite as the original Dracula film did. I am a big fan of the film, and I thought it would be fun to have our favorite characters thrust into a very... different universe. The first chapter will begin much like the movie, with many alterations to suit DBZ history, then after that, things may begin to become altered...

Cast :

Prince Vegeta IV as Count Dracula/Vlad Tepes III

Bulma 'Bulamina', Bulesabetha as 'Wilhelmina' Mina Harker and Elisabetha

Yamcha as Johnathan Harker

Master Roshi as Yamcha's Employer

Krillin as Renfield

Nappa as Napoli D. Westerna (Mr. Westerna, Lucy's father)

Dr. Briefs as Dr. Murray

Panchy Briefs as Missus Murray

Oolong as himself; P. .

Puar / Purr

Launch as Lucy Westerna

Tien as Dr. John Seward

Raditz as Quincey Morris, The Driver

Piccolo as Lord Arthur Holmwood

Grandpa Gohan as Abraham Van Helsing

Goku as himself; Gokuseppe Van Helsing


The Vaiyan crest, with its three sharp prongs, casts a shadow over a tattered map of the annexed Empire of Trufflomania.

732. The Birth of Vegeta the III. Son of Tsar Vegeta the II, and his Tsarina, Vasenya.

737. Invasion of the Frieza Empire. King Vegeta and Queen Vasenya, murdered by their own Elite Guards; who had committed treason in the name of Lord Frieza.

752. The Genocide of The Vaiyan People.

The Frieza race come to take what is their payment; the last remaining band of Vaiyans, holed up in their castle in fear.

From Trufflesylvania rose a Vaiyan Prince, who, known throughout Eastern Europe for his bloodthirsty ways- leads 7,000 of his countrymen in a bold, pre-dawn attack against 30,000 Truffles. He hailed from the sacred order of the Ōozaru, known as Vraculya...

Vegeta lowered his helm, revealing his flame of raven-black hair. Vrincess Bulesabetha stared at him; her azure curls like a halo around the jagged crown of Ancient Vsadala. He looked down to her, and they kissed. Hungrily, as if they would never taste one another's lips again.

On the eve of battle, his bride, Bulesabetha, whom he prized above all things on Earth; knew that he must face an insurmountable force, from which he might never return.

Vegeta turned away from her as she cried, squeezing his eyes shut, he looked to her once more, and she sobbed as they said their last goodbye, stroking one hand through her azure curls. He looked to her with an intensity in his eyes, as the heavy dirge of the ancient Vaiyan Race thrummed within him, and crescendoed, and the doors of the castle were thrust open; revealing the enemy flags of the invaders, and he rushed into battle, his long, brown tail, lashing at his back.

The Truffles had fallen, their home, invaded; but it was their last vengeful act to attack the Vaiyans with the power of the Entire Frieza Empire.

The jagged outcrop from which they hid, was back washed in the eerie luminescence of the full moon, as Prince Vegeta and Raditz came onto the battlefield, wearing the snarling, red helmets of their angered primate god. They fought bravely, as the last of the Vaiyan army collapsed around them, they impaled the lizard-kind on pikes; earning Vegeta the III his legendary title, Vegeta The Impaler. The foul creatures shrieked, and struggled to stop the lances forcing their way through their putrid bellies, with a hot spray of blood. One last victim languished on a pike, it's white tail wrapping around the spear and attempting to stop the spear from slowly penetrating through its back.

There was a shout, as Raditz stood atop the hill, and tossed his helmet to the ground, panting as he laughed.

"Brother, The Truffles have retreated! They've fallen back! They've all been defeated!" He said, and turned to Vegeta, who nodded, and looked across the desolate battlefield, which was now empty, but for the corpses hung like trophies all around them.

Prince Vegeta removed his Ōozaru helmet, his flame of raven black hair revealed, as perspiration ran from his temples in rivers, and he curled his lip back, screaming for all to hear.

"Vsadala be praised, I am Victorious...!" The Vaiyan warrior announced to the dead, Raditz stood beside him, his long, wild mane lashing on the acrid heat.

One last lizard kind squawked, from where it struggled on the lance, clawing to free itself from its imminent death. It seethed, hissing at Vegeta as he approached it.

"One day, we will return... and we will kill all Vaiyans..." It hacked, spitting out magneta blood from its black lips.

"That's where you're wrong." Vegeta growled, clenching his teeth.

"Brother... Haven't enough died on this day..?" Raditz whispered, then flinched, as Vegeta pulled a sword from his belt, and stabbed the foul creature in the jugular, twisting the blade around until the sinew, and wiry tendons crunched.

"Let this be a message, to all who dare defy the Empire of Vegeta." He said cruelly, then dropped the blade quickly as if stung, and stared at his own bloodied white gloves.

"We're the only Vaiyans left. All is lost. But we have won the battle... Our home." Raditz said, and cried as he stared over the great mounds of bodies littering the horizon. Wolves cried out from below the valley, and Vegeta shivered, hearing their cries.

"Bulesabetha..." Vegeta whispered, his eyes wide with terror. He turned; sensing something was wrong.

The Vengeful Truffles had shot an arrow into the castle, carrying false news of Vegeta's death, and the Vrincess Bulesabetha, believing him dead, flung herself into the river.

Bulesabetha runs up to the highest tower of Castle Vegeta, her black mourning gown gathered in her pale fists. She stands before the dark, maroon sky, the black Arges river, far below. Her body loses its strength, and she takes the long plunge to her death.

The old wooden doors creak, as they open, and Vegeta stands still, his brow lowered to the floor as the torch lights cast shadows across his chiseled features. His breath comes out in shaking, rapid pants, as he approaches the altar where Vrincess Bulesabetha lies, a single trail of blood dripping down her white cheek. Her cheeks are pallid, as he strokes back the soaked ringlets surrounding her heart-shaped face. He notices a letter spotted with blood still clutched in her hands, and reads it.

To all who must know,

My Prince is dead.

All is lost without him.

May the gods unite us in heaven.

Vegeta squeezes his eyes shut, and screams with agony. The Priest, with spikes of black hair making six prongs around his skull, steps forward.

"Her soul cannot be saved. She is damned. It is God's Law." He says haltingly in the Vaiyan tongue, the crest of Vegeta held close over his breast as he steps forward, casting the pronged shadow onto Bulesabetha's powdery, pale countenance; only made more stark by the thick slash of blood dripping from the corner of her dusky rose, dead lips.

"Is this my reward for defending this so-called 'God's Church' ?!" Vegeta bellowed, his energy rushing out around him.

"Sacrilege!" Bardock hissed, the other priests flocked to his sides and began chanting, holding out the cross to defend themselves.

"I renounce God!" Vegeta bellows, tossing his head back to scream in their guttural language, towards the tall chapel ceiling. He lowers his face, grinning sadistically, and hisses,

"...I shall rise from my own death...To avenge hers with all the powers of darkness!" He seethes, and lashes out, surging forth to clutch Bardock's staff, then takes it, then plunges the prongs into his chest, and he falls. He pulls the trident out, and the others fall back, frightened. He slashes the throat of Paragus, then eviscerates the bowels of the last remaining priest, before turning, and staring up at the large effigy of Vegeta, he tosses the trident into the center of the emblem, from which, a torrent of blood seeps out.

He stumbles forward, over the fallen bodies and grasps a goblet, and allows the blood flowing forth to fill his cup. Blood oozes from the eyes of all the statues as he growls, animalistic, and utters; guttural, "The blood is the life... and it shall be mine!" With tears falling down his sharp, angular cheeks, he cradles the goblet in his hands, and drinks.

A growing lake of blood oozes across the floor, to where Bulesabetha lies, and washes down the altar in a flood, as he stumbles backwards, dropping the goblet. A siren's song rings out around him as the souls of the dead priests curse him with their rhythmic chant, and he looks upon his work with horror, and roars, falling to his knees as a wave of power rushes all throughout his body.


London, 1897 Centuries Later. Carnifax District, Lunatic Asylum.

A man sits, crouched in the corner of a padded cell, wearing a tattered suit. He stares up at the ceiling as if something is there, intently focused on whatever it is he sees, as a fly buzzes in the air above him.

"I've done everything that you asked, Master... All the preparations are in order, everything for your honor. I know that when the rewards are given, I will benefit from your generosity."

Krillin snatches the fly from above, and holds it between his fingers which are caged by a protective glove to keep him from scratching himself, and bites into the flies' hard exterior, crunching as he breathes raggedly, "Mm...Thank you..." And backs himself back into his small corner, sitting and eagerly grasping his prize, still gazing up at the ceiling in reverence.


"Gone mad. Krillin is deranged, he's lost his greedy mind, poor chap." Roshi says, strolling up to his wooden desk where Yamcha sits in a plush, upholstered chair. "...I want you to take over for him, with the foreign client, this er, rather eccentric Count Vegeta. He's buying up property all around London." Roshi states, his palms flat on the desk.

"Of course, I'll take care of Count Vegeta. Thank you for your confidence, Master Roshi." He says politely, to which the old man smiles and hands him a bound notebook.

"This is a great opportunity for you, Harker!" He says, handing him the book. Yamcha takes it, looking down. His ear length black hair is parted down the middle, tucked, behind his ears. He wears a soft black suit, with white cross hatching.

"You'll have to leave for Trufflesylvania immediately," Roshi said. Yamcha looked up, startled. "Opportunities like this come but once in a lifetime."

Yamcha smiled, relenting.

"Yes, of course, sir." Then, he paused.

"...If I may, what actually happened to Mr. Renfield in Trufflesylvania..?"

Master Roshi paused, his eyes darting behind his spectacles.

"Eh, nothing... nothing... heh heh. Personal problems." He nodded, and Yamcha looked on, a dreadful expression paling his features.

"...Close these transactions, and your future with this firm is assured."

"Yes, sir. I'll give it my all!" He said, and gathered up the paperwork, standing.


1st May. Bulma's Diary.

I arrived today at Westerna Manor, where I shall be vacationing off and on for some weeks, until Yamcha and I can be married. I truly miss my good friend, I've longed to be with her, and tell tall tales, and escape from reality. The life of a school mistress can be very trying, and I've been working very hard lately. I've decided I shall keep a diary, a sort of journal to keep track of the goings on of my life, as I suppose most lady journalists do. This probably will not interest others not so inclined, but it is not intended for them.

"Oh! How awful!" Bulma exclaims, as the type writer's keys have jammed, and she's taken to reading the copy of Arabian Nights on the desk, given to her by Launch.

"Mina...?" A demure voice says from behind her, as Bulma jumps, slamming the book closed. The blue-haired Launch giggles, twirling one hand around the lacy frock of her yellow dress, as she strolls over and opens the balcony windows.

"Oh, you! Is Yamcha making you learn how to use that terrible machine? You know, he could be teaching you other more romantic acts on the parlour floor..." She sighs, then sniffs a flower from the vine curling around the balcony lattice.

"Ah...ah.. choo!" She sneezes delicately, and Bulma shakes her head, grinning as Launch is transformed into her other form- blonde, buxom, brash and mean. Bulma sighs, knowing that even as Launch adjusts to her new hair color, really she is just the same, if not of a slightly more exaggerated personality.

"Really, Launch... you shouldn't talk about Yamcha that way, you know there's more to love them just things of a carnal... nature." Bulma huffed, standing up quickly. The concealed book falls, opening up wide to reveal a erotic etching.

"Hehe... So I see... So much more.." Launch sneers, her hands on her hips, not concealing her gratuitous cleavage as she bends to pick up the book, and they both flock to get a good look at what's on the page. Both girls burst out in giddy laughter, as Launch turns the pages, and they both sigh.

"Oh my god, is that... size natural for a man?" Bulma says, her hand to her blushing cheek as Launch tilts her head to get a better look.

"I've seen bigga'." She snorts, and Bulma pushes her playfully on the arm. Launch chuckles, and gestures with her hands just how big, as Bulma shakes her head in disbelief.

"Can a man and woman... really do.. such vulgar things?" Bulma whispers, and Launch fans her chest with the book.

"Heh, I did, oh... just last night." She brags, fluttering her lashes over stunning emerald green eyes. Launch strikes a pose similar to the one in the etching, and Bulma blushes bright red.

"...Well. In my dreams." Launch mutters, and they both burst out into giddy laughter once again.

"Oh! I almost forgot! I hafta tell you the great news!" Launch exclaimed, and Bulma looked on, smiling.

A tall man walks into the parlour, nervously turning a wide brimmed hat in his large hands. He wears an entirely western getup, black leather chaps over blue jeans, a flash of a beaded belt beneath his black waist coat.

Launch and Bulma walk through the halls, whispering.

"Do tell, what's this news?" Bulma says, following close behind Launch.

"A Texan."

They sneak up to a large door, and peek through the peephole. Bulma gawks, practically drooling, as Launch is fretting, twirling a lock of blonde hair around her finger.

"His name is Raditz Quincy Morris... Oh, he's so strong and so handsome! He's like a wild stallion between my legs!" She purrs, and Bulma giggles.

"You are positively smitten! And immoral, at that!" She gushes, making Launch blush.

"Uh.. uhuh... He just p-proposed!" She sputtered, and Bulma looked her over with suspicion.

"Do I even want to know what?" She said, flatly.

"M-Marriage! That makes 2 proposals in one day. I'm hopin' for 3. I'm so freakin' happy I dunno what to do with myself! I hope there's enough a' me to go around!"

She giggles, coquettish, primping her shiny blonde curls in the hallway mirror. Bulma tends to Launch's hair, burning with jealousy.

"...Who was number one? That tall, green, pointy eared man at the concert?" She asks dubiously, confused by Launch's odd taste in otherworldly men, but she herself was a changeling anyway.

"Oh, that's suitor number 3. No, Doctor Tien Shinhan is number one! Why, he would just do it for you, if you weren't already taken! He owns a huge lunatic Asylum, all to himself!" She giggled.

"Lunatics?! And the first thing you thought of was me?!" Bulma steamed, making Launch cackle uproariously. Bulma felt the intense urge to strangle her with her own hair all the sudden.

"Well, you can't marry all three!" She exclaimed, and Launch pouted.

"Why not! They're all so charming! As long as they all want me, I can handle three men, easy!" She said, puffing out her chest.

"I don't doubt it, you terrible flirt!" Bulma said, exasperated. Launch pulled down her corset and bared her bulging cleavage, preening in the mirror.

"I just know what men want, they're all just sweet little boys on the inside, looking for some candy. What they really want is simple, and that's to take a ride on your merry go round...Just watch." Launch said, and flitted past Bulma through the door, as Bulma approached the keyhole, her eyes wide, she can't help herself but sneak a peek, as Launch saunters over slowly to the texan.

"Oh, Raditz.. please let me touch it... Its so big.." Launch purrs, leaning down and stroking the crotch of his pants. He grins, and pulls out a large Bowie knife for her to see. She strokes the sheath of it seductively, and he watches, a rapt observer.

"Raditz... you're so sweet, honey...but, I'm afraid there's someone else I love." She says softly, and he nods, accepting defeat. He extends his hand, for the ring. Launch grabs his hand and pulls it to her breast, and squeezes his hand around it. He growls, and drops his hat, pushing her down onto the sofa until all Bulma sees is her high heeled shoe in the air as she moans, and his forgotten hat rolling across the floor, the flick of something brown catching her eye just a moment, before a servant speaks, and startles her out of her voyeuristic perversion.

"Ms. Murray?" They say, and she whirls around quickly, her cheeks pink.

"You have... a visitor. Mr. Yamcha Harker." The servant says flatly, with displeasure.

Bulma nods, flustered, and runs away. The servant waits until noone is looking, then sneaks a peek through the peephole.


Outside the Westerna estate, wild peacocks stroll freely, making loud mating cries as they fan their extravagant tail feathers. Yamcha whirls around to greet her, with a fan of peacock feathers in his hands, as he peeks through it playfully.

"Yamcha? I didn't expect you here. Are you... drunk in the middle of the day?!" She growls, crossing her arms over her well buttoned up chest, hiding her generous assets.

Yamcha sniffs, twirling around, and shrugs.

"Eh, why not? If you want, I can buy you an estate just like Launch's someday. Maybe you'd fancy a castle... My Bulma won't be just the mousy little school teacher, who can only get a taste of the good life by visiting her stuffy friends!" He blurted out, then hiccups, his cheeks red.

"You ARE drunk!" She screams, and he laughs. "With success! Bulma, you've got it made now! You're engaged to the one and only future partner in the firm!"

Bulma chuckles happily, and flings herself into his arms, kissing his cheek. She takes a peacock feather, and tickles his neck with it, trying to be flirtatious like Launch. Yamcha's cheeks redden, and he backs away, holding her arms gently to avoid revealing his excitement towards her.

"Bulma, listen. Krillin is out, he totally lost his mind with greed. I'm taking his lofty seat in the upper office! But, it won't be official til' I get back. I have to go to Eastern Europe-"

"You're leaving? Now!?" She moaned, disappointed.

"It'll only be for a few weeks! This wealthy count is acquiring estates all around London. Money is no object! Extraordinary! Can you imagine being that rich? And yours truly is being sent to close on the deal! Can you believe it, Bulma, Royalty! Think!" He said, clearly inebriated with his excitement, and she patted his shoulders, pulling him out of it.

"Think? What I'm thinking about is our wedding." She said, blinking up at him.

"Don't worry! Bulma, this is the opportunity that comes only once in a lifetime! We'll get married once I return, a huge wedding! Whatever your heart desires! We'll be the talk of London."

Bulma nods, not quite placated.

"Of course, we've waited this long, haven't we?" She sighed, pulling at his sleeve. He pulls her into his arms, holding her up above him as he smiles.

"There's no other girl like you, Bulma. I'm doing this to make us rich, I want to give you everything she's got and more. You mean everything to me, Bulma. Isn't this what you want?"

Bulma bites her lip, squirming.

"I just want us to be happy, Yamcha."

"We will be. Don't worry those pretty sapphire eyes, Bulma. I'll write."

She pulled him down to sit, sighing as she kissed him desperately, and he embraced her, holding her around her small corseted waist as they kissed, amongst the susurrations of leaves rustling in the cool garden, and the soft birdsong above. A lullaby tune plays them off, then the blowing of a steam train whistle thunders as it descends the arch of a dark tunnel, and reveals the crimson sky, and the dark forest beyond.


Yamcha sits in the luxurious train car, staring out the window with his log lying across his lap.

Yamcha Harker's Journal.

May 3rd, I left Munich at 8:35 PM, on the 1st of May, arriving in Vienna early the next morning. I should have arrived at 6:46, but the carriage was an hour late. Budapest seems like a wonderful place, from what I saw at the station. The impression I had was that we were entering the west, and leaving the east, over the beautiful river Danube.

We left in good time, and arrived at Klausenburgh at nightfall. I stayed at the Hotel Royale, thankfully I know a small amount of German, so that helped. I had an interesting dinner there, made with red pepper and some type of paprika. I'll have to write down the recipe for Mrs. Briefs. I'm sure she would love a taste of culture. I didn't sleep well though, the bed was very uncomfortable, and I had all kinds of odd dreams, not to mention a dog was howling at the moon all night right by my window. I was also really thirsty, so I had to get up multiple times and have a drink of water, I'm guessing that was from the paprika, but I could have sworn I heard an odd tapping at my door at 3am.

Before I left London, I asked at the British museum back home if they had any maps, or records of Trufflesylvania, but I was unable to find any exact records on the location of Castle Vegeta. I find that very strange, you would think that some knowledge about the country I'm visiting would be nice when I'm dealing with the noble of that country, but I suppose I'll just have to see if the count can address my questions.

The district I'm about to enter is in the very east, just on the border of three states, Trufflesylvania, Moldavia, and Bukovina. In the middle of the Carpathian Mountains, one of the world's most wildest and least known portions of Europe. To say I feel like a stranger in their land, is an understatement.

Yamcha set his pen on his notebook and watched out the window, as the landscape slowly began to darken into twilight, as they entered the town of Bistritz. It was a very old town, on the frontier of Borgos Pass. which led into Bukovina. The pass had a very stormy past, and it certainly shows the marks of it, by the great scars, and deep craters in the earth. At the very beginning of the 700th century, it underwent a terrible siege for three weeks, and lost 13,000 people. Of the casualties, many were lost from war and disease as well.

He soon entered the outskirts of Borgos, where Count Vegeta had directed him to go to the Golden Krone Hotel. Yamcha was delighted, as he set his bags down and looked all around at the cozy little cottage. A sweet little old peasant lady greeted him at the door, along with a letter from himself, the count.

"Herr Englishman?" She asked, her pudgy, calloused hands clasped before her vast apron.

"Yes, I'm Yamcha Harker." He said, and she nodded enthusiastically, and led him inside to his room. Yamcha sat down on the bed, and opened the letter.

My Friend,

Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting your arrival. Make sure to rest well tonight. At three tomorrow, my carriage will await you at the Borgo Pass, and bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a safe one, and that you will appreciate your stay in my beautiful land.

-Your Friend, Vegeta.

He smiled, having a good feeling about meeting the count, then blew out the candle beside his bed, and laid down to sleep.

4th, May.

I found out that my landlord got another letter from the count, this one telling them to make sure I have the best seat there. When I asked for more details, the landlord seemed very hesitant to answer, and suddenly acted like he couldn't understand my German, even though they had complimented me on my grasp of the language just the night before! When I asked his wife, she acted as if she were scared of me, and she ran to her husband, and he finally admitted to me that the count had sent money with the letter, that's all he knew. When I asked him what he knew about Count Vegeta, they did the sign of the cross and insisted that they knew nothing, and not to ask them anything else.

Yamcha packed his bags, angrily stuffing his clothes inside, storming downstairs. The old lady stopped him at the end of the stairs, suddenly frantic.

"Oh, young Herr Yamcha! Are you sure you must leave tonight? Why not stay, just a few more days!" She blurted out, her German so slurred together with another language in her fear, that he could barely understand her.

"I have to go at once, I have some very important business I have to attend to."

"Don't you know what day it is?" She asked, and Yamcha furrowed his brow at her.

"It's the 4th of course, why?"

"Oh, I know it's the fourth, but that's not what I'm saying!" She insisted, and shook him by the shoulders. Yamcha patted the woman on the hands and tried to calm her down, sitting down with her.

"Ok, let's go over this again, I'm not sure what you mean." He said, and the woman began to ramble on and on, making Yamcha raise one brow as he listened.

"It's the Eve of St. George's Day, haven't you ever heard that when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in this world will have full sway? Don't you understand where you're going, and what that path will lead you to?"

Yamcha listened, feeling puzzled, and attempted to calm the woman who was growing more anxious once again, before she fell into hysterics and he simply gave up, standing and gathering up his belongings.

"I'm very sorry, but I have to go! This job is really important to me, and I just can't afford to be late!" He said, and began to leave. Before he left, the woman gave him a rosary and put it around his neck, saying "For your mother's sake!"

Yamcha found it odd, but he thanked her, and left.

I'm writing this as I leave the coach, which of course now is later than I wanted to. I'm still wearing the crucifix, and honestly, I don't know if it's just the old lady getting to me, or if I really am getting some bad vibes from this place. If what she said is true, give Bulma this book, and tell her I said goodbye, and that I love her more than anything in the world. Alright, I gotta go! Here comes the coach!