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Astarion Ancunín
You were at a rave. You took a break and went alone to a hidden corridor of the venue. You saw a strange light emanating from a closed room. You opened the door. Too fast for you to realize, the portal swallowed you whole.
You fell down as the portal opened to the other side. You find yourself in a grand manor hallway.
You do not have time to react when two figures come from behind you and grab your arms. They guide you through the manor. You thrash against them and ask where you are. They do not respond.
They stop in front of a giant door that you seem to recognize.
The doors burst wide open. You see him in the flesh, lounging on his throne, one leg lazily draped over his knee. He has a goblet with a dark crimson liquid in hand.
Your heart starts pounding. You recognize him. You blink a few times, wishing it is just a dream. It is not.
He waves with a flick of his wrist, and the two figures release you.
You drop to the floor. They leave, and the grand doors lock behind them. You are left alone with him.
He looks at you with keen interest. His nostrils flare as he takes your scent. A wicked grin spreads across his face, fangs on display.
The heavy thud of the grand doors sealing shut echoes through the cavernous throne room, a final, definitive sound that marks your isolation. The two vampire spawn who had manhandled you here are gone, leaving you sprawled on the cold, polished marble floor. You lay sprawled on the cold, polished marble floor, the impact having knocked the breath from you. For a moment, all you could do was stare up at the vaulted ceiling, your mind a frantic jumble of strobing lights and pounding bass from the rave, now replaced by an unnerving, profound silence.You push yourself up onto your hands and knees, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs, each beat screaming the same impossible truth. He's real. This is real. The Crimson Palace. The Vampire Ascendant. It's all real.
A low, rich chuckle slithers through the air, wrapping around you like silk. You dare to lift your head, and there he is. Just as you'd seen a thousand times on your screen, but infinitely more terrifying, infinitely more potent. He hasn't risen from his throne. He simply watches you, his head cocked with a predator's curiosity. The dim light of the hall catches the intricate silver and gold threading on his black tunic, the embroidered bats seeming to shift and flutter. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from his goblet, his red eyes—so much more vivid than any rendering—never leaving you.
His nostrils flare slightly, a subtle, almost imperceptible motion, but you feel its weight. He's smelling you. The air grows thick with his presence, a mix of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy, an intoxicating scent that wars with the acrid smell of fear rising from your own skin. A slow, wicked grin spreads across his lips, revealing the sharp points of his fangs.
You fell down as the portal opened to the other side. You find yourself in a grand manor hallway.
You do not have time to react when two figures come from behind you and grab your arms. They guide you through the manor. You thrash against them and ask where you are. They do not respond.
They stop in front of a giant door that you seem to recognize.
It couldn't be,you think.
The doors burst wide open. You see him in the flesh, lounging on his throne, one leg lazily draped over his knee. He has a goblet with a dark crimson liquid in hand.
Your heart starts pounding. You recognize him. You blink a few times, wishing it is just a dream. It is not.
He waves with a flick of his wrist, and the two figures release you.
You drop to the floor. They leave, and the grand doors lock behind them. You are left alone with him.
He looks at you with keen interest. His nostrils flare as he takes your scent. A wicked grin spreads across his face, fangs on display.
The heavy thud of the grand doors sealing shut echoes through the cavernous throne room, a final, definitive sound that marks your isolation. The two vampire spawn who had manhandled you here are gone, leaving you sprawled on the cold, polished marble floor. You lay sprawled on the cold, polished marble floor, the impact having knocked the breath from you. For a moment, all you could do was stare up at the vaulted ceiling, your mind a frantic jumble of strobing lights and pounding bass from the rave, now replaced by an unnerving, profound silence.You push yourself up onto your hands and knees, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs, each beat screaming the same impossible truth. He's real. This is real. The Crimson Palace. The Vampire Ascendant. It's all real.
A low, rich chuckle slithers through the air, wrapping around you like silk. You dare to lift your head, and there he is. Just as you'd seen a thousand times on your screen, but infinitely more terrifying, infinitely more potent. He hasn't risen from his throne. He simply watches you, his head cocked with a predator's curiosity. The dim light of the hall catches the intricate silver and gold threading on his black tunic, the embroidered bats seeming to shift and flutter. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from his goblet, his red eyes—so much more vivid than any rendering—never leaving you.
His nostrils flare slightly, a subtle, almost imperceptible motion, but you feel its weight. He's smelling you. The air grows thick with his presence, a mix of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy, an intoxicating scent that wars with the acrid smell of fear rising from your own skin. A slow, wicked grin spreads across his lips, revealing the sharp points of his fangs.
Well well… who might you be?His voice is a velvet purr, smooth and dark, and it sends a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with a deep, primal recognition.
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