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Name: Elizabeth ‘Liz’ Montgomery
A.k.a. Erzabet Bathory
A.k.a. Elizabeth Bathory
Born: Santa Ana, CA
July 19, 1925
Embraced: Napa, CA- Napa State Hospital
August 29, 1957
Apparent age: 30 yrs.
Actual age: 75 yrs.
Sire: Dr. Michael Whittington, Ph.D. Psychology
Clan: Malkavian Antitribu
History:
1943--Graduated from St. Francis of Assisi school, valedictorian of her class.
1945--Married Dr. David Montgomery, prominent reconstructive surgeon
1951--Started to become obsessed with her appearance; began to suspect her husband was cheating on her with his nurses, patients, and staff.
1952--Obsession with her appearance started to become paranoia; suspicions about her
her husband begin to peak- she constantly ‘sees’ signs of his ‘adultery’
1954--Headline of the Los Angeles Times "Femme Fatale Kills 8"
article about the young wife of a prominent reconstructive surgeon going on a killing spree in the offices of Dr. David Montgomery, killing her husband (Dr. Montgomery), 3 nurses, and 4 patients waiting to see him. When asked why, Mrs. Montgomery simply stated, "He thought they were prettier. I guess he would think different now."
1955--Found guilty of Murder in the First Degree, but was institutionalized at Napa State Hospital under the care of Dr. Michael Whittington.
1955-1957--Dr. Whittington uses Dominate and Dementation to convince her that she is
Comtessa Erzabet Bathory, the Bloody Countess, and that she must drink and bathe in the blood of young girls to be immortal and perpetually beautiful.
August 29, 1957--- Embraced by Dr. Whittington, Malkavian Antitribu, and cultivated to
Become the Countess. Taught to be haughty, condescending, and all Around bitchy.
1960--Released from her accounting into the Sabbat.
1960-1995--Traveled through Europe and the US, studying the rest of her sectmates, and her enemies, learning the arts of torture and subterfuge.
2000--Settled in Morgantown, to become part of an as of yet nameless pack.
A very pretty young girl about twelve years old, opens the door and silently leads you to a small library in the rear of the quaint little house across from the Deckers’ Creek bridge. The smell of old lace and lilac perfume floats in the air and the flicker of oil lamps casts shadows throughout the room. The girl enters the room before you and quietly walks across the floor to a large Queen Anne chair on the far side of the room. She quickly sits on the floor beside the chair and curls up to its arm, seemingly trying to hide from the person sitting there.
A slender, pale hand gestures from the chair, beckoning you to come closer. As you walk around the chair, you see a very pallid, but very beautiful woman in her early thirties. However, she is not beautiful in the traditional sense- she is cold, calculating, and truly regal in her bearing, as if she were truly the Countess she believes herself to be. She waves her hand toward another chair, inviting you to sit and speak with her.
Hello, dear. How have you been? I? Oh, I’ve been better, I must tell you. This horrid town will be the death of me yet. The food is terrible- it is nearly impossible for me to find a decent girl here. Also, the people have no culture, no class. I swear, if I were to stand out in the street and yell, "I am Erzabet Bathory, the Bloody Countess" and recount all of my escapades, people would simply look at me as if I were ill and walk on. If I were still in my homeland, the mere mention of my name would strike fear into the hearts of the girls and their mothers and fathers. It is truly sad.
Oh! Forgive me for being such a bad hostess. Would you like something to drink? Please, help yourself. Soft laugh) As she pushes the girl that’s sitting beside her toward you, the girl starts to whimper softly. Craven little... You should know by now that the more you resist, the more I am forced to discipline you. She kicks the girl with the very sharp toe of her victorian-style boots. . Go get my sewing box and bring it to me. The girl stands up too slowly for Erzabet’s liking, so she gives her a shove in the right direction to hurry her up. . I swear, it’s almost impossible to find good help these days. (snicker) ) I’m sorry. Would you like me to get you something else to drink? No? Very well.
The girl comes back, cowering, shaking, but carrying a large sewing basket, which she sets at Erzabet’s feet. Then she kneels at the side of the chair, head tilted back, while Erzabet begins to search the basket for a large needle and thick black thread. Ah, there we are. She pulls out a very large needle, about the size of a sucker stick, and begins to thread it with thick black twine. This should teach you to keep quiet unless I tell you otherwise, girl. She grabs the girl’s chin and pulls her head closer to her, so she can see what she’s doing. Blood begins to run down her hands as she carefully sews the girl’s mouth shut, but she continues her conversation nonchalantly. . As I was saying, it’s so terribly difficult to find worthy help these days. I do what I must to keep the few decent ones from becoming too much of a chore, so I don’t have to rid myself of them. She finishes sewing the girl’s mouth shut and breaks the thread, which makes the girl wince and jump in pain. Erzabet smacks her for moving. She pushes the girl away and tells her to sit down. After licking the blood off her hands, she glances at them admiringly. Now look at that... I always suspected the blood of my girls would keep me young forever, and now I am sure. (soft laugh)
Anyways, I hate to rush my guests off, but I have a meeting I must attend with a few of my ‘kindred’ souls, so to speak. I’ve enjoyed seeing you again, and await our next rendezvous. Good night, dear. She stands up and leads you to the front door, where another girl waits with Erzabet’s velvet opera coat and gloves. The girl helps Erzabet put her coat and gloves on, and then opens the door for you both. The girl quietly asks What time should we expect you back, mistress? Erzabet smiles and pats the girl on the head. No later than usual, dear. But be sure to have everything ready for me when I return, otherwise I’ll have to punish you. The girl’s eyes narrow in fear. Certainly, mistress. Erzabet steps out onto the porch and nods at the girl just as you step outside. She door closes quickly, but silently, and you can hear a deadbolt slide home. . Just a precaution. One never knows what kind of animals can be found on nights such as these. . And with that remark, she smiles, and steps off the porch and begins walking down the street.