u/Creative_Bed_5557

A group of vampires who were banished underground due to their decline. They are forced to feed on the blood of monsters; human blood is a delicacy reserved for the nobility and is mostly used in blood magic. They do everything they can to preserve a sense of normalcy: they hold balls and formal receptions, but the consequences of their fall are inevitably reflected in their appearance, behavior, and clothing.

Tier 1 — Cherubim (Blood Gatherers):

Small flying creatures used by higher-ranking vampires to collect blood.

Tier 2 — Aristocrats (Handlers):

The nobility. They lead expeditions into distant caves for scouting, resource gathering, and blood harvesting. They lead the cherubim on leashes.

Tier 3 — Mama (Blood Mage / Supreme Vampire):

Leads the group and uses blood magic to create the cherubim. As a guarantee of loyalty, the Aristocrats present Mama with one of their hands as a gift.

A group of vampires who were banished underground due to their decline. They are forced to feed on the blood of monsters; human blood is a delicacy reserved for the nobility and is mostly used in blood magic. They do everything they can to preserve a sense of normalcy: they hold balls and formal receptions, but the consequences of their fall are inevitably reflected in their appearance, behavior, and clothing.

Tier 1 — Cherubim (Blood Gatherers):

Small flying creatures used by higher-ranking vampires to collect blood.

Tier 2 — Aristocrats (Handlers):

The nobility. They lead expeditions into distant caves for scouting, resource gathering, and blood harvesting. They lead the cherubim on leashes.

Tier 3 — Mama (Blood Mage / Supreme Vampire):

Leads the group and uses blood magic to create the cherubim. As a guarantee of loyalty, the Aristocrats present Mama with one of their hands as a gift.

After the dust had settled and the strangers had abandoned the temple, Tharka discovered that she was the sole survivor. What she witnessed that night left her eyes unable to behold the world any longer. For a long time, she wandered through canyons and forests, lost and directionless, until, day by day, she began to hear a gentle birdsong.

The birds needed shelter and protection; Tharka needed a way to navigate the world. In time, they became her eyes—and her hope for vengeance.

The character is a historian I created for a book that my friend is only planning to write. He studies archives, travels to places where events occurred, and interacts with echoes of those events

In times when people turn away from the true deity and the darkness of disbelief shrouds the earth, heralds of the Sun appear to shed the light of truth and establish the forgotten as the new and only righteous law.
During my first playthrough of Elden Ring, I felt inspired to create a concept that would resonate with the game's vibe, its atmosphere, and the creatures that inhabit it.

As an adult, she underwent an initiation to become a priestess of the god of the flow of time. Within the walls of the monastery, the clergy devoted themselves to divination and the study of possible futures.

Over time, she rose through the ranks from the lowest position in the hierarchy, eventually reaching a place close to the very top. But at the height of her ascent, she foresaw her own downfall.

Haunted day after day by the vision and consumed by paranoia, she eventually discovered a way into the long-sealed chambers of the Forbidden Library. There, she immersed herself in knowledge that revealed how to cross the boundary between merely predicting time and actually controlling it.

Armed with this forbidden knowledge, she overthrew the ruling hierarchy and seized control of the monastery herself. From that moment on, she became increasingly reclusive, rarely leaving her chambers.

The only thing that now breaks the silence is the steady ticking of the monastery’s clocks — a quiet reminder that, sooner or later, every debt must be paid.

Red grew up in the poorest district of the city—a place no decent person would dare set foot in, even in broad daylight. Poverty, filth, and violence were all he had ever known.

The city racetrack was the one bright spot in his life. There was a gap in the fence surrounding it, just wide enough for Red to slip through and spend hours watching the races. The grace and nobility of the horses had nothing in common with the world of poverty and violence he had grown up in. It was there that he made himself a promise: one day, he would ride a racehorse of his own and become a champion.

Years passed. The dream never faded, but it did little to fill an empty stomach. Hunger drove him to steal food, then wallets, and eventually horses. In time, Red became one of the finest horse thieves in the county. Desperate to leave his starving past behind, he did everything he could to imitate the aristocrats and fearless jockeys he admired. Sometimes he still imagined himself in the saddle, but he could never quite enter their world. So he began to claim it piece by piece: copying the manners of the wealthy, wearing scraps of stolen finery, and hiding his greasy hair beneath a wild mane of hair from thoroughbred horses—the trophies of every successful theft.

By then, rumors had begun to spread among horse thieves about a traveling stable that housed horses of extraordinary beauty. No one who had gone after them had ever returned with a prize.

Red set out to pull off the boldest theft of his life, never suspecting that the job would change his fate forever.

At last, he would have a chance to make his childhood dream come true.

Just not quite the way he had imagined.

Red grew up in the poorest district of the city—a place no decent person would dare set foot in, even in broad daylight. Poverty, filth, and violence were all he had ever known.

The city racetrack was the one bright spot in his life. There was a gap in the fence surrounding it, just wide enough for Red to slip through and spend hours watching the races. The grace and nobility of the horses had nothing in common with the world of poverty and violence he had grown up in. It was there that he made himself a promise: one day, he would ride a racehorse of his own and become a champion.

Years passed. The dream never faded, but it did little to fill an empty stomach. Hunger drove him to steal food, then wallets, and eventually horses. In time, Red became one of the finest horse thieves in the county. Desperate to leave his starving past behind, he did everything he could to imitate the aristocrats and fearless jockeys he admired. Sometimes he still imagined himself in the saddle, but he could never quite enter their world. So he began to claim it piece by piece: copying the manners of the wealthy, wearing scraps of stolen finery, and hiding his greasy hair beneath a wild mane of hair from thoroughbred horses—the trophies of every successful theft.

By then, rumors had begun to spread among horse thieves about a traveling stable that housed horses of extraordinary beauty. No one who had gone after them had ever returned with a prize.

Red set out to pull off the boldest theft of his life, never suspecting that the job would change his fate forever.

At last, he would have a chance to make his childhood dream come true.

Just not quite the way he had imagined.

Red grew up in the poorest district of the city—a place no decent person would dare set foot in, even in broad daylight. Poverty, filth, and violence were all he had ever known.

The city racetrack was the one bright spot in his life. There was a gap in the fence surrounding it, just wide enough for Red to slip through and spend hours watching the races. The grace and nobility of the horses had nothing in common with the world of poverty and violence he had grown up in. It was there that he made himself a promise: one day, he would ride a racehorse of his own and become a champion.

Years passed. The dream never faded, but it did little to fill an empty stomach. Hunger drove him to steal food, then wallets, and eventually horses. In time, Red became one of the finest horse thieves in the county. Desperate to leave his starving past behind, he did everything he could to imitate the aristocrats and fearless jockeys he admired. Sometimes he still imagined himself in the saddle, but he could never quite enter their world. So he began to claim it piece by piece: copying the manners of the wealthy, wearing scraps of stolen finery, and hiding his greasy hair beneath a wild mane of hair from thoroughbred horses—the trophies of every successful theft.

By then, rumors had begun to spread among horse thieves about a traveling stable that housed horses of extraordinary beauty. No one who had gone after them had ever returned with a prize.

Red set out to pull off the boldest theft of his life, never suspecting that the job would change his fate forever.

At last, he would have a chance to make his childhood dream come true.

Just not quite the way he had imagined.

Red grew up in the poorest district of the city—a place no decent person would dare set foot in, even in broad daylight. Poverty, filth, and violence were all he had ever known.

The city racetrack was the one bright spot in his life. There was a gap in the fence surrounding it, just wide enough for Red to slip through and spend hours watching the races. The grace and nobility of the horses had nothing in common with the world of poverty and violence he had grown up in. It was there that he made himself a promise: one day, he would ride a racehorse of his own and become a champion.

Years passed. The dream never faded, but it did little to fill an empty stomach. Hunger drove him to steal food, then wallets, and eventually horses. In time, Red became one of the finest horse thieves in the county. Desperate to leave his starving past behind, he did everything he could to imitate the aristocrats and fearless jockeys he admired. Sometimes he still imagined himself in the saddle, but he could never quite enter their world. So he began to claim it piece by piece: copying the manners of the wealthy, wearing scraps of stolen finery, and hiding his greasy hair beneath a wild mane of hair from thoroughbred horses—the trophies of every successful theft.

By then, rumors had begun to spread among horse thieves about a traveling stable that housed horses of extraordinary beauty. No one who had gone after them had ever returned with a prize.

Red set out to pull off the boldest theft of his life, never suspecting that the job would change his fate forever.

At last, he would have a chance to make his childhood dream come true.

Just not quite the way he had imagined.

Red grew up in the poorest district of the city—a place no decent person would dare set foot in, even in broad daylight. Poverty, filth, and violence were all he had ever known.

The city racetrack was the one bright spot in his life. There was a gap in the fence surrounding it, just wide enough for Red to slip through and spend hours watching the races. The grace and nobility of the horses had nothing in common with the world of poverty and violence he had grown up in. It was there that he made himself a promise: one day, he would ride a racehorse of his own and become a champion.

Years passed. The dream never faded, but it did little to fill an empty stomach. Hunger drove him to steal food, then wallets, and eventually horses. In time, Red became one of the finest horse thieves in the county. Desperate to leave his starving past behind, he did everything he could to imitate the aristocrats and fearless jockeys he admired. Sometimes he still imagined himself in the saddle, but he could never quite enter their world. So he began to claim it piece by piece: copying the manners of the wealthy, wearing scraps of stolen finery, and hiding his greasy hair beneath a wild mane of hair from thoroughbred horses—the trophies of every successful theft.

By then, rumors had begun to spread among horse thieves about a traveling stable that housed horses of extraordinary beauty. No one who had gone after them had ever returned with a prize.

Red set out to pull off the boldest theft of his life, never suspecting that the job would change his fate forever.

At last, he would have a chance to make his childhood dream come true.

Just not quite the way he had imagined.

Red grew up in the poorest district of the city—a place no decent person would dare set foot in, even in broad daylight. Poverty, filth, and violence were all he had ever known.

The city racetrack was the one bright spot in his life. There was a gap in the fence surrounding it, just wide enough for Red to slip through and spend hours watching the races. The grace and nobility of the horses had nothing in common with the world of poverty and violence he had grown up in. It was there that he made himself a promise: one day, he would ride a racehorse of his own and become a champion.

Years passed. The dream never faded, but it did little to fill an empty stomach. Hunger drove him to steal food, then wallets, and eventually horses. In time, Red became one of the finest horse thieves in the county. Desperate to leave his starving past behind, he did everything he could to imitate the aristocrats and fearless jockeys he admired. Sometimes he still imagined himself in the saddle, but he could never quite enter their world. So he began to claim it piece by piece: copying the manners of the wealthy, wearing scraps of stolen finery, and hiding his greasy hair beneath a wild mane of hair from thoroughbred horses—the trophies of every successful theft.

By then, rumors had begun to spread among horse thieves about a traveling stable that housed horses of extraordinary beauty. No one who had gone after them had ever returned with a prize.

Red set out to pull off the boldest theft of his life, never suspecting that the job would change his fate forever.

At last, he would have a chance to make his childhood dream come true.

Just not quite the way he had imagined.