#veilcrest

[englishotomegames]

Veilcrest: Trial of the Arcane is an upcoming otome game by Repulse currently on Kickstarter!

"This is it. Your first year at the elite Veilcrest Academy. Following in your father's footsteps and ready to take on anything. Things were going great until you stumbled upon a magical world hidden in plain sight.

In your curiosity to see how deep this rabbit hole goes, your life becomes entangled with those of three magical men. With your world turned upside down, it’s up to you to uncover the secrets of the academy and navigate the complicated world of young love."

Meet and romance three magical men

Make choices that impact the story, your relationships and future dialogue

Learn new spells in the secret magic classes led by Professor Theon Whitelock

Explore the Academy at night and choose who to spend time with

Talk with people and experience the story in Visual Novel style dialogue

Use magic to solve puzzles around the academy and discover collectables, find secrets and learn about the magical world

Multiple endings

3D characters that move, react and express themselves during dialogue

You can download the demo (on Steam or for Android) or support the Kickstarter here!

[otomegamesandme]

Otome Jam Thoughts 2024: Veilcrest: Trial of the Arcane

Veilcrest: Trial of the Arcane

By: Repulse Games

Summary:

This is it. Your first year at the elite Veilcrest Academy. Following in your father's footsteps and ready to take on anything. Things were going great until you stumbled upon a magical world hidden in plain sight.

In your curiosity to see how deep this rabbit hole goes, your life becomes entangled with those of three magical men. With your world turned upside down, it’s up to you to uncover the secrets of the academy and navigate the complicated world of young love.

A 3d rpg otome game? This caught my eye instantly, just because it's always fun to see otome games that aren't in the typical VN medium (don't get me wrong, as someone who plays and makes VNs, I love them, but it's always nice to see new things!)

With that said, this felt very 2000s YA, which if you're feeling nostalgic for that era, might be fun. It was for me, seeing all the old tropes that used to be overdone but now you don't really see much anymore. It felt cozy, in a weird way? I do think this demo doesn't showcase all the components of the game. There's screenshots that show more use of magic and puzzles, amongst other things, and I hope there's an extended demo so we can get a feel of how all the elements play out and how it feels in game. I especially want this seeing as there's a planned kickstarter for this coming up at some point.

My biggest complaints, which I normally don't talk about for Otome Jam thoughts but again, seeing that this is going to get a kickstarter I would want addressed, are:

No subtitles for voice acting

The mixing for the VA was too quiet and hard to hear

Most of the scenes for the morning class added nothing to the story save for one (the scene with Dante one of the LIs). I can imagine this becoming really repetitive, and hope they cut it down or tighten things up going forward

Other then that, I did like the foundation it has so far and I hope they improve on it. It's really cool to see a project like this in the otome space, and I hope it does well!

[agrcn]

Casimir certainly had a way with words. It wasn’t surprising given who his mother was. Agron had never been afforded the luxury. Not until Valerius had appeared did he truly find his purpose. Becoming a Blademaster had been a necessary stepping stone that he wouldn’t have changed for the world. He wished for the Warriors’ Guild to still accept him after this, but Casimir’s words made him feel like that wasn’t the case. Agron had some semblance of hope that his fate would not be as grim as the other was making it out to be. There was a bear as he listened to Casimir, but none of it was fully being retained. Unsurprising given how much he was looking forward to this. He understood the other’s reluctance to participate though. What reason would he have to march against the Tower? There was a fucking diamond encrusted spoon in his mouth. Again, he had the luxury of not being filled with anger and being able to make the choice to not come with.

“If that’s all you have to say…” Agron paused and looked at Casimir. “I’ll take my leave now. If I see you again or don’t see you again, this was my decision. Remember that well.”

A Child of the Night, Casimir was literally born to take the helm of violence and be constructed as a soldier for Lusacan's beliefs. An outlier in the Noctis home, each of his siblings had blood on their hands, dressed in armor and fitted with weaponry, but Casimir could only curl his lip in distaste at the idea. He'd been reared in the Church of Night, uttered its sermons and excerpts, understood the draconic tongue, but still the young heir could not be roused to fight and die for something that may not ever be a tangible truth again. Lusacan's crypt remained somewhere within the dirt of this realm, a draconic god that was meant to bring back everything Queen Lavinia and her war generals dreamed of; the cataclysm and the chaos that plumed from it.

He couldn't pretend he'd ever understand the wrath which melded with pride in the face of a heron's mark. The talent and violence Agron could breed merely from wielding a blade whereas Casimir's own talents resided in his mind and the arcana studied. Privilege of such advancements and medicine were not lost on the Shade, but he would leave them behind if it meant he was not to betray himself.

His eyes grazed over Valerius' prized soldier, someone who was ultimately preened for this life but someone who did not falter. One who jumped at the opportunity to cull and maim, murder and conquer. Perhaps there was honor in a warrior's death but Casimir was not interested in learning such fate when his life had barely begun. All within Veilcrest, the technology Queen Lavinia kept shepherded away from the rest of Lysara, was something vital to Casimir but he'd lived little in the rest of this Queendom's regions and it was time for him to do so without the inheritance of a legacy to breathe upon his spine.

Casimir stood tall as the strigoi stepped closer; he'd never known the struggle of hardship nor the grit of Lysara's underbelly. He'd known the rampant craving for blood, the perpetual itch in his throat and yet somehow he was disarmed of this urge to storm the battlefield and kill, "May you feel peace as you go from this life, Agron." Simple as the freshly exiled heir bit his tongue, resigned from the fight, and abandoned his place as a member and soldier for Lusacan's ideology. "And may the vitriol that teems within you shed with each Lysaran you cull under your marked blade."

[thequeendomhq]

“Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts.”

Some time during the Dark Age –

A griffon shrieks – its large, dark wingspan making a shadow over the sun. It lands a few feet from a woman, an Elvhen, dressed in dark armor. “Revas,” the woman greets the Griffon, who, after a moment, turns into a rather large mimic of a dog, pressing its head against the Elvhen’s chest.

She laughs, her hand scratching the cheek of the large griffon, the momentary pain forgotten. It had been a long day, the barren land that she had just come from finally burnt and left behind. 

Those who had survived the onslaught of what eventually would become Eastreach had dragged themselves towards the safety of the broken Tower, towards any place where an Old God and the Dark One’s power could hopefully not reach. What they did not expect was the desperation that followed, the death that would rise in these places that only knew how to kill or be killed. More and more took the Joining, more and more would begin to understand their sacrifice, and more and more became ghouls.

“Isseya!” 

Another’s voice pulled the Elvhen from her thoughts, her hand dropping from Revas’ cheek even as the Griffon gave a huff of annoyance. 

A sandy colored Griffon landed a few feet away, a man sliding off its back, “Andoral has been sighted, coming for the islands – what do we do? Valeria Mordecai and the witches have made it to Eterna. They’ll never last against Andoral alone.”

Isseya glanced at Danaro, then to his griffon, “Valeria has the palantír. She’ll know. Take Shrike and wait for me by the ruined Tower. We will fight the Old God head on.” Her words were strong, but even she was just an Elvhen – just one soldier part of the pattern. The Light of the Laurelin still shined within her, blades that were conjured out of nothing that she would send flying towards the Darkspawn that dared to rear their ugly heads, and she was of Sylaise – she would sacrifice blood for her goddess, and pray that those she fought for would continue on.

The city that would become known as Eterna currently lay in waste ahead of her; broken and shattered buildings, a Tower with white marble that was stained with fire and missing pieces that had fallen into the bay below – the city Valeria Mordecai, the future queen, would rebuild stone by stone. It was a ruin from a previous age, the original name perhaps lost to time. Isseya turned towards Revas now as Danaro and Shrike took to the sky, flying towards the battered city ahead. 

“Ir abelas, Revas,” Isseya’s apology was quiet, but the Griffon was noble – it would never turn from such a fight, and the Legionnaire would never ruin his honor by sending him away. She reached for his back, climbing onto the Griffon as she looked at the Tower far off in the distance. “Lasa ghilan, Sylaise,” she whispered, and the two launched themselves forward, the shrieking of a dragon the only answer to the quiet prayer.

Amon Sûl, a few weeks before the fall of Iskaldrik –

“Veilcrest has always been the reason. It’s a stain on all of Taravell. We can’t destroy the Blight without ridding those who worship Lusacan–”

“You’re talking about a full on war with the Queen and all her followers, it’s madness.”

“Taravell has forgotten about us, we’d have no support, not even–”

“You’re right, but if they knew we were marching to our deaths? They’d support us even less–”

“–Or support us more. Lose Veilcrest or the Legion? They’d be fools to choose them over us!”

Voices continued to shout over one another, the halls of Amon Sûl no stranger to strife and disagreement. Legionnaires had been stationed here for years, those they dragged in, blighted and dying, and somehow survived the Joining – they had yet to leave. Even now, as different officers stood arguing around a large table with a map of Taravell, there didn’t seem to be any moment of respite. 

“Every minute we wait is another minute one of them could regain power. There are forces at work for all of them, nevermind the Dragon of Night.” This Legionnaire did not wish to speak the name Lusacan; names had power, and this one held fear in his heart.

“It’s not like they’re thanking Him for giving them a hobby, they–”

“Well what about the Darkspawn? Nornwatch has reported increased activity, they’re responding to someone–”

“Enough.” 

One voice seemed to silence the others, the Legion Commander standing now at the head of the table that the others stood at. The officers placed their arms over their chest in greeting, some looking annoyed they’d been interrupted, others chastised. 

“We do nothing.” Silas’ eyes were darkened with exhaustion, the commander moving towards a door. Voices called after him, but they were ignored as he shut a door behind him, closing off anyone who would enter the room that led to the staircase for the tower. Up and up he went, silent and weary. No one noticed the tiredness in his voice, or perhaps the way his blue eyes were always watching with an unknown emotion. No one dared question him, and those that had were admonished before they could ever finish their declaration. What good could the Legion be if they spent half their time in single combat, fighting over leadership?

Silas continued to walk the steps of the tower, the stone echoing every movement, every rustle of armor, every sigh – until he reached the top. The hilltop fort was one of the few things for miles around, and within the tower lay the only thing that Silas wished to look at. He walked towards the center of the room, a pedestal rising as he approached. Upon it was a round, crystalline stone. It glowed unnatural colors, twisting and turning, like it was whispering some quiet words as Silas got closer. The Commander pulled off one of his gauntlets, and he reached forward to place his hand upon the glass stone. 

The voices quieted, and Silas’ eyes turned white.

Aventia, Borderreach, Present Day –

“Oi! Get the hell out of my house!” An older man brandishing an axe chased after a young man, who was frantically gathering his clothes and sprinting out of the backhouse that he’d been caught in. The farmer’s daughter was left laughing in her beloved’s wake, watching as he ran, ass out, towards the woods. 

The young soldier stopped when he reached the treeline, a laugh on his lips as he thought about nearly getting axed by the farmer. Pulling his clothes on, he searched for the bow and arrow he’d set down. The woods were quiet, and as he trudged around, it wasn’t until he noticed how quiet that he took pause.

Not a single bird chirped, not even an insect dared to make a noise. 

This farm was settled on the edge of Aventia, the inner town itself a little worse for wear after being on the very border of Iskaldrik and Aetheron’s magical barrier. 

Suddenly, the ground started to shake, the young man falling backwards onto his bum as the noise suddenly became unbearable. Trees began to crash, creatures scuttled from their hiding spots as they sprinted past. The soldier couldn’t move quick enough, scrambling to his feet and discarding his bow and arrow as he raced away, back towards the village.

The farmer still had his axe, holding it up, “Hey! Ya little fucker, I’m gonna…” he cut off as the barrier started shifting, creatures shrieking and the forest seemingly coming alive as it groaned and creaked. 

“Run!” The ground continued to tremble, the farmer and his family gathering their horses. They raced away, despite the barrier…shrinking?

The soldier stopped, watching as it got smaller, and smaller –going further away. 

Eventually, the crashing noises ended, and silence fell upon the farm once more. 

He huffed out a laugh, unsure why they’d taken so much care to run the other way. He started to walk, following the tracks of the horses. It wasn’t a long march back to the town of Aventia, but the hoof prints he followed eventually were paired with…something else. 

Blood splattered in the mud, large sliding tracks that showed where a horse had fallen, where another had been dragged – and a severed leg was all that remained as he continued to walk. His weak stomach simply made him gag; an untrained soldier, he’d barely seen war. Aventia was a town plagued with pressure from the Iskaldran border, used to seeing witchers catch runaways, smugglers pass through with those they’d rescued. It was a strange town, but it had always been relatively peaceful – only because they avoided conflict as much as possible.

Until now. 

Smoke rose from one of the nearest farms, the entire home and field burning. The ground rumbled once more, and the young soldier had to lift his eyes to see the town of Aventia under siege. Creatures that he’d never seen before were climbing the wooden walls. Archers who hadn’t seen battle in many winters attempting to shoot them off. Screams echoed through the valley, and the young man suddenly wished he hadn’t left his arrows behind. 

Pulling the shortsword from his belt, he took a breath, ready to charge forward to help his home. A noise from behind him made him pause, however, the ground shaking with every step that seemed to come closer and closer. 

He turned, eyes lifting up to a monstrous creature that was born easily from nightmares. The ogre roared, and the young man fell backwards, eardrums shattering from the sheer proximity. The last thing he would see was the ogre’s axe swinging down. 

OOC Information:

Enjoy some spicy Legion things and a first insight into what those in Amon Sûl have been arguing about for a while…

Legionnaires will occasionally have visions of a blighted dragon in their dreams. Infrequent, but it leaves a bitter taste upon awakening.

The barrier surrounding Iskaldrik put up by Aetheron has shrunk. 

The town of Aventia is located in Borderreach, you can find it on the Lysara map. 

Aventia is under siege by a massive amount of darkspawn. News has spread towards Feronia and the edges of Northreach, and news will slowly be making its way down through the Silverlands and Lysara to Eterna. This is the first time in modern history that a large, seemingly coordinated attack has been made against a capital town by darkspawn. 

Lady Severian, a silver faiman and the ruling noble, has called for aid from Lórien’dal, Caer Glas Keep, Feronia, and Eterna.

Aventia is not known for its modern defenses, only its strategic location and old but sturdy stone walls. 

[strigoisak]

Person: @vicoya Location: Lil Path between the Keep and the stables It's not like Isak doesn't have friends. Back in Veilcrest he'd had.....Well he'd had Dracula's friends technically. And then when he'd ventured to Eterna he'd made...Colleagues with other physicians, alchemists, scholars, and the like. Carys probably counted as at least an acquaintance. Other members of the Legion in Ankhuria were also kind of coworkers but he had been fond of them in his own way. Vicoya though, the redhead was actually so kind that Isak didn't quite know what to make of her. Which was why with whisperings of her birthday, he couldn't not acknowledge it and so inside the pocket of his coat, there's a particularly pretty leatherbound journal. "Do you have a moment?" He asks as he falls into step with her on the path, his hands in his coat pockets.

[alucardrakul]

@etienneulven location: Lostlands notes: in the swamp jestie

Things couldn't possibly have been worse.

Alucard had been separated from the King and the others when the mountain collapses, he'd watched Etienne fall through the caves, and by the time he'd caught up with the King's Army, Riandur and Vicoya were already sent to scout ahead. They battled a disgraced legionnaire, faced off against Aetherians, and slayed a blighted dragon.

Alucard bit his knuckle, Vicoya and Riandur were just so cool. The King had been taken which was- well, not really his problem or his priority. Insensitive, maybe, but the Legion of the Dead didn't have a nation.

At least he'd been part of inducting their two newest recruits, a princess and a witcher.

In the swamplands Alucard knew to be weary. He'd traveled this way years ago on his way from Veilcrest to Nornwatch Keep. They were deceptive because the terrain was vastly different here and as warm as it could be, the Lostlands were just as unforgiving as the Wastelands.

Alucard hovered in front of the prismatic wall that sealed the Iskarans within their nation and let his red gaze wander over its surface. He caught sight of Etienne's reflection and turned in the air, excitedly, shocked to see the boy at all. Which, since this was Alucard, just looked like a slow turn in the air followed by a nearly emotionless stare.

"You're alive."

[vuldak-juneau]

Happy birthday miss Gus! Casimir won't be the king of Veilcrest any time soon, but he is our king of mommy issues. @casimirnoctis

[casimirnoctis]

Darkness was what he'd been crafted from, something which he'd befriended for the longevity of his life, but a pit Casimir had crawled from all the same. The Shade - that which was in darkness if only because it'd been sheltered from the direct brilliance of light, and Casimir no longer vied to have Veilcrest's shadow hailing over him. He never wished to be molded into something expected of his lineage; a warrior, a cleric, something which rattled around in the cage of violence perfectly crafted for their kind. Casimir envisioned something which could reach farther than any claim to former glory, any bastion of truculence his family hoisted above their namesake, and though he'd not find that in the Vanguard, he certainly had discovered something of curiosity within this church.

A wolf donned in cleric's clothing, something that teetered the very lines Casimir often did. It was compelling enough that he might vie to waste this one's time again when it came to the notion of the church.

"I will live enough lifetimes to be able to explore different means of living." Casimir shrugged, perhaps it was a cop out, but he'd shared enough to this cleric without having even been granted their name. "If I seek the Light," definitely a sarcastic bite there, "Who am I to ask for?"

In the dim light that the flickering torches afford, it was easy to lose traces of Casimir to the shadow. As if he existed somewhere between where the darkness ended and the light began. Curiosities were always of interest to Nikandros, but more than that he lent a favorable mind toward understanding them. Mysteries were so rare these days and people were all but complacent in their stagnancy. Even now a power rose in the west, with darkness just north of it wasn't hard to imagine what might become of the world if these powers were left unchecked.

"There's room enough beneath me." Lightly taunted, Nikandros let the humor lift for a moment as he digressed a bit further, "Scriptures, arcana, and demonology aside, there's room for you here - should you change your mind." Nikandros wouldn't press the faith any further on the stranger, though his interest was piqued so he'd see to it that their paths would inevitably cross again. "But, Casimir Decebal Noctis, you do pride yourself on being something of an enigma, don't you?" Enough had been deduced for the day, instead of cutting deeper into Casimir's possible motives, he pried deeper into the things that he could see and smell. Faint evidence of an artificer's dedicated hands, the lingering scent of an alchemist's machinations- and something else that resonated as vaguely familiar. Nikandros kept the thought in seclusion, hoarding it privately to himself.

[englishotomegames]

Veilcrest: Trial of The Arcane

Release date (Steam) English: October 31st, 2024

"This is it. Your first year at the elite Veilcrest Academy. Following in your father's footsteps and ready to take on anything. Things were going great until you stumbled upon a magical world hidden in plain sight.

In your curiosity to see how deep this rabbit hole goes, your life becomes entangled with those of three magical men. With your world turned upside down, it’s up to you to uncover the secrets of the academy and navigate the complicated world of young love."

Meet and romance three magical men in an otome story

Make choices that impact the story, your relationships and future dialogue

Learn new spells in the secret magic classes led by Professor Theon

Explore the Academy at night and choose who to spend time with

Talk with people and experience the otome story in Visual Novel style dialogue

Use magic to solve puzzles around the academy and discover collectables, find secrets and learn about the magical world

Multiple endings

3D characters that move, react and express themselves during dialogue

This is a commercial game by Repulse Games! You can buy it or try the demo from Steam here.

[thequeendomhq]

THE ENGINEER ~

NAME. UTP AGE & BIRTH DATE. UTP SPECIES. Strigoi FACTION. Tower of Olympia OCCUPATION. Inventor / Master of Artillery

In Lysara, the metropolis has taken leaps and bounds over the last century. Eterna now stands at the forefront of what the world can accomplish when science and mana work in tandem. You aren’t without your involvement in this. A disgraced warrior from the Deadlands, you put Veilcrest behind you because despite being dead you never considered yourself a monster. You wanted immortality, fear of the Abyss came after, and worry about a being that no one had ever seen like the Dark One, sounded like something meant for a children’s storybook. You weren’t easily fooled, and now you had centuries to work and toil. Queen Damodred Mordecai saw your worth, an artillerist and creator, one who’d seen the rise and fall of enough innovation to know errors a mile away. The city boomed, plans were drawn, checks were revised, and your eyes were behind it all. Every gun mounted on every vessel, every wall erected to prevent incursion, Damodred passed, Arethusa rose, and you remained as the master of artillery and advisor on all things mechanical.  Every blueprint and schematic, every high rise and tower. Checks and balances, weights, and measurements. Eterna was moving beyond bricks and mortar, one stone out of place, one valve left open, and disaster could spark across the city.

CONNECTS

THE RIGHT, HONOR, REDEMPTION, LIONHEART, SANCTUARY, AND THE BLAZING: Members of the Queen's Court

NOTES

N/A

[strigoisak]

Person: Fellow Legionnaires Location: Caer Glass Keep, library In Ankhuria, during the day, he was mostly holed up in the library and it was hard to admit, but the library at Caer Glass was better somehow. Probably because there wasn't a layer of sand on literally everything and the abandoned atmosphere almost reminded him of being back in Veilcrest. That was something he mourned almost more than the actual bond with his sire, the castle's library, Vlad's lab. But he has to make due with what he has and he had gone to the keep on purpose, he can't complain. And because he'd gone there on purpose and because from a logistics standpoint, morale was indeed impacted by camaraderie, when someone enters the library he tries to look up from whatever he is doing. And goes back and forth on if he should say anything to someone no doubt just passing through or perhaps grabbing something and retreating to their chambers. Totally casual, he looks over his shoulder from where a book is hovering before him via telekinesis to look at whoever had slipped into the room. "Hi." Nailed it.

[eivorx]

"I'd seen many Jarls, but none like you. And I know you are weary of the title, but back then, you couldn't have been more than one at that moment. Protecting a group of poor refugees, magic and human alike, at the end with a Vanguard. We're not exactly adored, perhaps as much as Iskarans are hated amongst Eterna. So yes, I guess it was a test." An unlucky test subject, but she'd been the one present. For now, it was just a fond memory. Eivor was always looking for a fight, for a problem, or for some reason to kill. It had ebbed as of late, but only because his proximity to violence had widened.

Eivor grinned at the question, though he was surprised she hadn't asked it earlier. "Doing what I do best. Killing things, Freydis. Freeing those in chains headed to the mines." He and Nik had gone in silence, though that was not exactly his best friend's style. Even now, he could feel the other's pointed and mixed feelings on being in Eterna. Pushing a thought towards Nik, he hoped the other received it before he looked back down at Freydis, "Does that suffice your...curiosity?" The Elvhen worded it as such, though he had caught the tone in her voice. "If you have another question, speak it plainly, and I'll answer. You didn't seem bothered to ask what I was doing there in the first place when we were actually there," he gave a wry smile, "but there were always far more of us than just humans in Iskaldrik."

Her question was unusual, but he could see the line of thought. Eivor knew of Veilcrest, of the lands that remained with the undead, "No, not unless you feel a sickness of the blight." Eivor's meaning was literal, no matter how far down into the philosophy that Freydis wished to go. He wouldn't follow at the moment.

The Elvhen lifted a hand and waved off her apology. Even so, the sun was beginning to set on the Queenset Isles, and the Tower was providing more than enough shade. "I asked, Freydis. And I wouldn't have if I didn't wish to know the answer, yeah?" He figured that this wouldn't be the last time he saw the former Jarl, the fey-touched woman who had unloaded everything because she at least felt...well, he hoped she at least felt somewhat comfortable in his presence. Her story was her own, and he wasn't going to share it. "When you are ready to slay the archfey, send a message to Lorien'dal. I plan on going there."

It seemed her comment had landed upon a receptive audience, perhaps moreso than she had been expecting. Freydis didn’t know if this satisfied her or concerned her. Her grief sat upon her shoulders like a heavy mantle, but not so much so that it shuttered all other aspects of her being. But even so, she found the shifting of the subject to be an absurdity–and she found herself waiting. When would come the comments about her stepping on him, beating him up, the prattling and self-disclosure that she was little more than a gateway to the actualization of some kink or perversion–how flat those comments made her feel. To those she had encountered and those who had expressed such desire, when she wasn’t a shield or sword, she was simply a body. But he made no further comment to debase her as such. “I am no saint. You won’t soon find me depicted in painted glass,” she responded, building upon the idea of penance and verbally self-flaggelating herself for the shortcomings of her character all at once. “Perhaps I can reflect on my failings–present you with something of a list next time we meet. Ensure it’s really worth your while.” She tilted her head slightly in response to the lifting of his brow, eyeing him and questioning what she was thinking–saying–all at once. “And then I’d gladly listen to you pontificate while I serve my recompense.” 

The change in conversation might be more welcome if it wasn’t steered back toward the topics that depressed her so. But such matters sobered her again, helped the rising color in her cheeks temper slightly and not betray her entirely. Her eyes reflected the light of electricity that danced between his fingers and her own hand twitched at her sides as her gaze narrowed as if she had to restrain herself from reaching out to try and pluck the crackling energy from his hand. And maybe it was that she did have to restrain herself. Incisors and clenched jaws only did so much to keep her panic and anxieties at bay these days. “Why were you in Iskaldrik from the start?” she questioned, though there was not a firmness in her voice that demanded he answer. “You were testing me.” She felt that was another way to phrase his answer, though she felt she was the chosen test subject by nature of proximity and nothing more. 

Heavy hazel eyes settled on his when he attempted to assure her that no one part of a soul held more weight than another. It was clear she could not accept this at its face value, but she did not outright reject the idea. She would think on those words, try to force her understanding of all that had happened and all she was told may happen through that lens, even if it felt like forcing all that was not understood and not fathomable to her through the eye of a needle. The other version of her had seemed so wise, so knowing, and Freydis suspected it would take time for her to sift through all she had been told and shown to make any meaning of it–but she knew time was a scarce resource. 

Freydis nearly looked nauseated at the word blight. She had not noticed until this moment how seldom she used it, how skillfully she found ways to convey her meaning without naming it specifically. Her hand lifted to push her hair back from her face, but lingered just an inch or so behind her hairline as if she expedecting to feel something there. It dropped again after a moment, signaling no significant discovery, but she turned her eyes away from him and stared ahead of them with a thousand yard stare. “We should have been dead–stayed dead,” she responded quietly. “If the world were right, the six of us would still be buried in that wound of the world. Buried in our minds, too. We weren’t there for most of it–not really. Just… dead eyed and obedient and absent.” Her gaze shifted slightly, looking down at her two hands now lifted before her. Her hands shook as she remembered what that had held when she regained herself, half-dead and blighted, and what she had done with the nursling she had found in her grasp. “That absence is a mercy.” She paused for a beat, but could not bring herself to look at him. “Do you think we are corrupt?” Healing did not undo what was endured. 

“No one and nothing has the answer I want but the pattern,” she responded gently, though she didn’t think he needed a measured tone from her to absolve him from his lack of answers. Freydis shook her head but finally met his eye. “That I won’t be strong enough to save the others. To save anyone.” She was silent, still looking at him. It landed as another instance in which his words were difficult to bring into herself in the moment, but that her tired eyes made a wordless commitment to consider further and make meaning of with time. “This was much more than I intended to burden you with… I’m sorry.”  

[alucardrakul]

@hiddenlilja location: Haven (Technically I think Feronia is still alpha? She's old now tho) notes: last call before damnation

Fresh off of telling his father that he had joined the Legion of the Dead, Alucard made for what would be his last stop before he was posted at Nornwatch Keep. The dhampir was inherently uncomfortable in any social setting, but this one was already more intense because he couldn't shake the notion that the wolves here didn't like him on principle. Alucard did his best to appear friendly and approachable, he'd smiled at those who passed him by and he made strong eye contact to inspire something akin to intimacy... but so far nothing had worked.

Alucard's smiles looked more like snarls, and the piercing red gaze of a creature that didn't need to blink could only be called intimidating, but not intimate. Wearing the black armor of one of the Legion of the Dead, the cloak of the Church of Night of Veilcrest dragged behind him, stitched in gold embroidery with the sigil of Lusacan the dragon upon it. A symbol of the blight, but a beacon for the path that Alucard had walked before enlisting in the Legion.

"We may be the only dhampirs for miles." Alucard commented as he sat next to the stranger perched at the corner of the bar, gesturing toward the bartender who, instead, pretended not to see Alucard at all.

[thequeendomhq]

THE SHADE ~

NAME. UTP AGE & BIRTH DATE. 25+ SPECIES. Dhampir FACTION. UTP. OCCUPATION. Vampire Royalty

From the shadows, you were born and to the shadows you returned to every night. Heir of darkness, regent of disorder, your mother is Queen Lavinia Noctis. Daughter of the night, first general of the Old God Lusacan, ruler of Veilcrest, and regent of the Deadlands. You grew up amidst machinery, medicine, and technologies that the human world lost so long ago that the common tongue no longer has names for them. These things interested you more than the appointments your mother wanted you to make, the priestess of the Lusacan who was ever-vigilant in her search for his prison. Stories abound of the glory days of shadow and darkness, but you were more interested in what the world looked like today. Battles were for the boring and the drab; you grew up in luxury, and decadence was all you truly craved. Your mother wanted a soldier, a warrior like the siblings lined beside you and the many that had died before you. One of many, the chipped cup in an otherwise perfectly matched set. She told you the Blight was rising, that a war was coming, and when you professed your disinterest, you were cast out. A stranger amidst your people, a prince turned exile in the blink of an eye - a pampered child with tears of blood and nowhere to go. What would become of you now?

CONNECTS

N/A

NOTES

N/A

open.

[strigoisak]

Halloween Edits: Veilcrest

A bleak and unforgiving terrain lies shrouded in perpetual darkness beneath the shadow of towering, jagged mountains. These mountains, known as the Veilstones, rise like blackened sentinels, their peaks veiled in swirling mists that obscure the sky above. The landscape is dotted with treacherous ravines, deep crevasses, and jagged cliffs, making travel through the region demanding for all but the most intrepid adventurers.

[jamieprice]

"Takes a lot tae scare me, y'know?" She doesn't ask him something else and so he's taking it upon himself to needle her just a bit. "Cannae say I havenae done some...Questionable things." The murder was justified, and it's not like he'd let them go to waste. Gold had been redistributed to local brothels, the servants of the house taken care of. For as much as his bloodlust had driven him those first couple of years, he'd done some good. Maybe that's the good Vicoya had seen in him, his charity. "It happens, ye do what ye can tae survive. I get it." That's what he knew how to do, survive against all odds, against his status. It'd been rather lonely since he'd left Veilcrest but he did truly think selfish people just lived longer. Or at least that's what he told himself.

“Only because you could never compete,” she commented vaguely, but she wasn’t going to pick a fight with Jamie about it. Even if she tried to bait him, she doubted he would take it either. Not over something so stupid, at least. Aside from this, Juneau had no motivator to put up with those she couldn’t stand to be around–she ran no business and needed little to survive. She outright refused to be beholden to just about anyone, making it easier than most to spare herself from having to suffer fools. She assumed those who Jamie tolerated were done on a transactional basis, and not for the sake of manners.

He barely gave her any information, and expected her to divulge more? She considered this. It might be good leverage to use against him–maybe not necessarily to learn about her maker–she wasn’t sure how much she actually cared, but perhaps to disclose something important in the future that did interest her more. Juneau stared at him hard as she considered this. She didn’t enjoy the idea of disclosure as a form of currency amongst the pair of them, but she hated being completely devoid of trump cards either. “From what I’ve heard from others and my own personal experience, as ugly as death itself,” she stated simply. Jamie would probe further she was pretty sure, and for the sake of having the ability to lord the fact that she’d allowed herself to get vulnerable over him, it was important that Jamie thought that all she chose to share with him was his idea, not hers.