The Nightmare of Chalston. The Frozen Death. The Plague of Winter Nights. Many names had been bestowed upon the man who now commanded this desolate stretch of isolation, and many more would come. He had held the rage in check for many years, however, an unfortunate incident brought the half-elemental close to death. In that moment, a good-natured vampire bestowed upon him a gift eternal. A gift that turned into a curse. You see, thinning the blood of the elemental race with that of humans had been a stretch as it were. Adding vampirism into the mix would ultimately prove catastrophic. Certain ties were loosened, certain bonds broken.. and a darkness emerged.
A darkness that provided the inspiration for this most imposing structure.
As if the very earth had parted to give way to its piercing pestilence, a palace of frozen glory had forced its way upward toward the sky. Hundreds of twisted spires, the ice thereof a smoky gray, reached their sharp points towards the heavens, as if lashing out at the very gods themselves. The main gates, twisted bars of ice as hard as steel, swung open to reveal a snow-filled courtyard, adorned with statues depicting various scenes of human suffering. Continuing onward, the towering doors of the castle parted, and a grand hall greeted the eyes of any newcomer. Massive columns adorned the open area, richly woven tapestries of blue and silver strung between them. The walls sported a highly detailed design of winding thorns and budding roses, the vine serving in many places as frame for several decorative paintings with a distinctly macabre theme. A heavy blue carpet stretched from the door all the way to the back of the hall, the soft give of the materials thereof almost decadent.
However, there were more.. disturbing luxuries to behold. Spaced at even intervals along the long, carpeted walk were large, tear-shaped globes of transparent ice. The attraction was not that they were room-temperature to the touch, but what they held: within each structure was a living being of the thinking races, beautiful beyond comparison. It would seem the master of this place collected such things as trophies. Ah, but there was an even more macabre twist to the misery inflicted. A new globe arose, an elven female imprisoned within. It did not match the pairing. The problem would soon be corrected, as an elf of slightly lesser beauty occupied the spot next to it. The globe of the ‘inferior’ specimen shuddered, cracks appearing along its surface.
That’s when the screams began—not just from its occupant, but from the others in the near vicinity. You see, it began collapsing inward, crushing the poor female to death. As her final gurgling cry erupted, a series of openings and troughs appeared at the base, funneling the blood down into a network of grooves beneath the transparent floor as the emptied vessel retracted into the floor, the new female’s globe sliding in to take its place as decoration. The blood moved toward the back of the hall to fill an ever-bubbling series of waterfall fountains that formed a half-circle behind what could only be called a throne-- a high backed chair of the same spire design of the castle, its back and seat padded in rich, blue velvet.
The lips of the man occupying that throne curved into a cruel smirk as eyes that resembled a blizzard took stock of the crying and shivering specimens he held so dear. Long, cerulean hair, frozen in cascading waves of icy spines fell long over his back. Resting atop this unique style was a top hat of black brushed velvet. Gloved fingers came to rest upon his chin as he leaned back, the rich material of his blue dress shirt off-setting his snow-white flesh perfectly. Legs adorned with blue pinstriped slacks slowly crossed over, setting the light of the above chandelier dancing across the highly polished surface of his dress shoes. Tapping the base of his twisted blue icicle cane upon the floor, the man’s blue tinged lips parted into a grin, revealing a double set of silver-tinted, icy fangs.
“Hush now, darlings. Crying makes your face puffy, you know. And that.. is far from attractive.”
Recoiling in fear, the many collected quickly made themselves presentable—and that included the few rare males of exceptional splendor he had gathered from exotic races. Laughing softly, a cold, cruel sound, Donatien filled his crystalline goblet from one of the many blood fountains and took a long, slow sip.
Unlife was good.
A darkness that provided the inspiration for this most imposing structure.
As if the very earth had parted to give way to its piercing pestilence, a palace of frozen glory had forced its way upward toward the sky. Hundreds of twisted spires, the ice thereof a smoky gray, reached their sharp points towards the heavens, as if lashing out at the very gods themselves. The main gates, twisted bars of ice as hard as steel, swung open to reveal a snow-filled courtyard, adorned with statues depicting various scenes of human suffering. Continuing onward, the towering doors of the castle parted, and a grand hall greeted the eyes of any newcomer. Massive columns adorned the open area, richly woven tapestries of blue and silver strung between them. The walls sported a highly detailed design of winding thorns and budding roses, the vine serving in many places as frame for several decorative paintings with a distinctly macabre theme. A heavy blue carpet stretched from the door all the way to the back of the hall, the soft give of the materials thereof almost decadent.
However, there were more.. disturbing luxuries to behold. Spaced at even intervals along the long, carpeted walk were large, tear-shaped globes of transparent ice. The attraction was not that they were room-temperature to the touch, but what they held: within each structure was a living being of the thinking races, beautiful beyond comparison. It would seem the master of this place collected such things as trophies. Ah, but there was an even more macabre twist to the misery inflicted. A new globe arose, an elven female imprisoned within. It did not match the pairing. The problem would soon be corrected, as an elf of slightly lesser beauty occupied the spot next to it. The globe of the ‘inferior’ specimen shuddered, cracks appearing along its surface.
That’s when the screams began—not just from its occupant, but from the others in the near vicinity. You see, it began collapsing inward, crushing the poor female to death. As her final gurgling cry erupted, a series of openings and troughs appeared at the base, funneling the blood down into a network of grooves beneath the transparent floor as the emptied vessel retracted into the floor, the new female’s globe sliding in to take its place as decoration. The blood moved toward the back of the hall to fill an ever-bubbling series of waterfall fountains that formed a half-circle behind what could only be called a throne-- a high backed chair of the same spire design of the castle, its back and seat padded in rich, blue velvet.
The lips of the man occupying that throne curved into a cruel smirk as eyes that resembled a blizzard took stock of the crying and shivering specimens he held so dear. Long, cerulean hair, frozen in cascading waves of icy spines fell long over his back. Resting atop this unique style was a top hat of black brushed velvet. Gloved fingers came to rest upon his chin as he leaned back, the rich material of his blue dress shirt off-setting his snow-white flesh perfectly. Legs adorned with blue pinstriped slacks slowly crossed over, setting the light of the above chandelier dancing across the highly polished surface of his dress shoes. Tapping the base of his twisted blue icicle cane upon the floor, the man’s blue tinged lips parted into a grin, revealing a double set of silver-tinted, icy fangs.
“Hush now, darlings. Crying makes your face puffy, you know. And that.. is far from attractive.”
Recoiling in fear, the many collected quickly made themselves presentable—and that included the few rare males of exceptional splendor he had gathered from exotic races. Laughing softly, a cold, cruel sound, Donatien filled his crystalline goblet from one of the many blood fountains and took a long, slow sip.
Unlife was good.
