Countess Nádasdy is the Vampire Queen of the Westminster Hive, the most fashionable hive in London, and considered one of the oldest living vampires in the country.
Most of the supernaturals in London know her by name and reputation only, that being that she is beautiful, cruel, and exceedingly polite. Those of the Ton who have been privileged enough to meet her are usually surprised by her appearance, as she resembles a country shepherdess: short and plump, with rosy cheeks and cornflower blue eyes that sparkle.
As vampires can only proliferate through the bite of a hive queen, a risky and messy business, the queens themselves are fanatically protected by vampires of their hive, and the “making” of another hive queen is a great achievement. Countess Nádasdy has yet to be successful in this endeavour.
Countess Nádasdy’s chief protector is her Praetoriani, Lord Ambrose.
The following quotes from The Parasol Protectorate novels give some insight into Countess Nadasdy, but are not required reading for the character. Your character sheet, supplied at the con, will have all the information needed to play this character.
Lord Akeldama actually did sit up straight at that. His waterfall cravat quivered in agitation. “Queen of the Westminster hive,” he hissed, his fangs showing. “There are words to describe her, my dear, but one does not repeat them in polite company.”
Countess Nádasdy was purported to be one of the oldest living vampires, incredibly beautiful, impossibly cruel, and extremely polite. She was queen of the Westminster Hive. Lord Maccon might have learned to play the social game with aplomb, but Countess Nadasdy was its master.
The woman who came forward to greet Alexia was not at all what she had expected. The lady was short, plump, and comfortable-looking, her cheeks rosy and her cornflower-blue eyes sparkling. She looked like a country shepherdess stepped out of a Renaissance painting.
Up close, Countess Nádasdy looked less jolly, and it was clear her rosy cheeks were the product of artifice, not sunlight. Under layers of cream and powder, her skin was ashen white. Her eyes did not sparkle. They glittered as hard as the dark glass used by astronomers to examine the sun.
The vampire queen had the demeanor and appearance of some sort of small, quick hedge bird – a tit, perhaps. If a tit could kill you with a mere nod of it’s little feathered head.
The countess had freckles on her nose. It was unexpected and vampirically questionable. Of course, they could be fake.
Countess Nádasdy served the tea. Miss Tarabotti took hers with milk, Miss Dair took hers with lemon, and the vampires took theirs with a dollop of blood, still warm and poured out of a crystal pitcher.
Most of the hive drones were male, but occasionally Countess Nádasdy took a female. She had hopes of someday making another queen, no matter how slim the odds.
The vampire grimaced as if to imply that the affairs of mortals were so trivial, it pained her to enquire.
The countess shook her head in exasperation. “Swarming is not something one chooses. I know this is difficult for you to understand, soul-sucker, but not everything is the result of conscious thought. Swarming is an instinct. I have to know, deep down in my soul on a supernatural level, that my hive is no longer safe. Then I would have to source a new hive, never to return to this one.”