Roads traveled into twilight, a funereal mist brings many down a forlorn path.
Ravens and Crows screech as omens of the darksome mysteries ahead, soon forgotten by a quick pace.
Time here was frozen by the spells of the evening and morning, the luminous fire of the Adversary long ago passed to arcane sorceries.
Hear the wolves so howl the smell of living, warm blood.
Upon jagged mountain forests, casting shadows upon the realm, can you sense the beasts of night watching?
A time-forgotten castle, once a bastion of defense in former times, now a Tyrant upon the Prey of Mankind.
Shadows, fog and storm-clouds hold in a skeletal grip of Those Who Drink the Blood of many found.
A towering castle, frozen in a state of slow-decay, broken battlements seize the day.
As clearing amid the forest, under the gaze and watchful eye of a tower, Moroii gather in midnight hours.
Flames burn blue and green from candles pitch black.
The sorcerous crown upon a goat-horned phantom, our omen of power. Night-born bats fly amidst the circle, a skull of a Parricide, reflecting the Cultus of Cain: the first of Devil’s Blood and Vampyre Thirst.
Strigoii guide the rites of the Undead, mixing the crimson blood of Moroii and the Undead, Black Blood of the Undead, gathered in the Chalice of Vampyri.
Burning eyes into shadow’s veil, beautiful unto the rapture of predator and prey.

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