The Family of Nightbloom is an ancient line of vampires predating the oldest written records of the world. Ruled by Lady Ophelia Nightbloom.
They have a palatial keep and a village along the coast east of Thacken Seatown but west of the Elemental Peninsula and the Towers of Rakshas. They have a small mansion as well in the City of Nishwam with deep ties to the Academy Magicka, though a complicated relationship with the religious community of the city.
Though capable of creating full vampires, Lady Ophelia strictly forbids this unless someone has proven their loyalty and dedication to the Family. However, the creation of Dhamprs is common to gain loyal followers or soldiers for the Family.
Prominent Members of the House
Ophelia Nightbloom – Matriarch of family, very powerful wizard/sorceress. Often perceived as cold and reserved. Obviously a beautiful young woman when changed, the ensuing millennia of her life have left her with an atmosphere and appearance of finely crafted marble, a nearly stonelike demeanor that rarely cracks. Ophelia rarely leaves the family compound, her daughter Olivia spending more time out in the world.
Olivia Nightbloom – daughter of Ophelia, a rogue with a small spark of the magical ability her mother possesses. Olivia is a full vampire, like her mother, and quite powerful in her own way. She spends time traveling the realm, especially staying in the family’s mansion in Nishwam, often meddling in the affairs of the city when necessary to further her own, or family’s, interests.
Callum Greycloak – Salkier fighter, Full vampire, and largely considered consort to Ophelia. Callum is a tall, soft grey skinned character never far from his weapons and enchanted armor. If he rides forth from the compound, it is usually at the personal request of Ophelia herself. Those who get in his way do so at their peril.
Draignin Alcrest – Elven rogue, Full vampire, personal bodyguard and attendant to Olivia. Thin and wiry with sharply pointed ears, Draignin is never far from Olivia’s side and is considered the only person she seems to trust implicitly except for her mother and Callum. He is often seen stroking the hilts of his enchanted weapons at his belt.
History of the Family
Ophelia Nightbloom was born to poor farmers in a flyspeck village some 4000 years ago, or possibliy longer, only she knows for sure. Blessed with incredible beauty and charm, she attracted a lot of attention for her hand when she came of age. As her parents negotiated with various parties, a dark haired, pale faced man rode into town one evening.
He met with Ophelia’s parents for mere minutes before a sack of gold and jewels changed hands and Ophelia was sent to pack her things. The local priest was quickly called to bless the union between Ophelia and her groom, Razul Nightbloom. Though her head spun from the whirlwind of events, Ophelia noted that Razul was inhumanly attractive. A charisma exuded from him no one could resist. She quickly found herself alone with her new husband as they rode silently away from her childhood home in a dark carriage.
In the darkness of the night, they stared at each other. As dawn approached, blocked by the thick cloths and sealed wall slats of the carriage, Razul turned to his new bride. He spoke softly just two words, “I hunger.”
Assuming what he wanted, Ophelia approached cautiously and began to shirk the hastily put on wedding gown.
Razul smiled, opening his mouth. His canines extended over an inch past his other teeth. “Perhaps later, but for now,” he said as he pulled her onto his lap and angled her neck. No resistance came to Ophelia as she locked eyes with Razul, not even when his fangs sank into the tender flesh of her throat. She knew by the lapping and sucking sounds that Razul fed upon her life’s blood.
As darkness threatened to overwhelm Ophelia’s senses, she felt his tongue gently probe the holes his bite made. He whispered an incantation as warmth returned to her body. “Now, sleep, my bride, we shall discuss our future when you awake.” Sleep claimed Ophelia quickly, rocked by the carriage and held in his powerful, but gentle, embrace.
When she awoke, she shivered, despite the mount of blankets covering her. Every nerve ending in her body felt as if struck by lightning. Somewhere far away she could hear the skittering feet of a rat. Concentrating on the sound, she heard the rhythmic thumping of its heart as it pumped blood through its little furry body. She clutched her arms to herself, then paused. There was no thudding within her own chest. Panic should have sent her heart racing.
“Lovely, you’re awake,” Razul said as he entered the room. A scream of surprise escaped Ophelia’s lips as she threw her hands in the air. A writhing mass of energy coalesced in the space between her fingertips. It changed color as it swirled, launching itself at Razul.
He calmly raised his hand, a ring on his smallest finger flashed brightly, and the mass of colors evaporated. “Excellent,” he continued. “Your powers have awakened as well. Finally, a bride worthy to share in my glory.”
“What do you mean?” Ophelia whispered, looking from her hands to her husband. Flashbacks of the carriage ride flitted through her mind. “It can’t be. What are you? What have you done to me?”
“Think, my dear. You are no fool peasant,” Razul says with a smile, his fangs gleam in the candlelight. When realization dawns on her face, he laughs, deep and heartily.
“The stories,” Ophelia begins. “They’re just stories to frighten children. Vampires aren’t real.”
In a blink, Razul is by her side. He cups her face gently in his fingers. They feel cold and lifeless against her flesh, even as a raging desire burns within her for his touch. The sudden flames of desire confuse her, clouding her mind. She’s only even known Razul for a day or so.
“I have searched longer than even I can remember for a bride worthy to be my equal. And now, I have found you.” He pressed his lips to hers softly, then harder. Something sharp and strange presses against the inside of her own mouth. This kiss feels nothing like the stolen seconds making out with one of the village boys vying for her hand. As Ophelia feels his fangs pressing against her mouth, she recognizes the sensation she feels and pulls back. Her fingers go to her lips, then probe between them. She feels the long shape and sharp points of her own fangs.
“Yes, my bride, you are changed. Now, no longer will the ravages of time steal your beauty. We will grow in power together,” he proclaims conspiratorily.
Razul’s charm lasted nearly a thousand years, during which Ophelia’s magical prowess grew. With an eternity to study, she found ways to minimize the weaknesses of their condition. She enspelled their wedding bands to protect them from the burning rays of Solahl’s light. In the beginning, they traveled together, seeking out the answers to all mysteries of the Aether and arcane. When Ophelia’s research kept her in one place for longer periods, Razul began going alone, or with trusted guards and servants they’d acquired. An entire village grew up around their castle stronghold. A group of people devoted to their benevolent Lord and Lady, for no one would dare infringe on their territory.
After a few thousand years, the long periods of time with Razul away grew lonely, despite Ophelia’s magical research. When he returned home, she broached the subject of children. Razul shook his head, “My love, we cannot have children in the traditional sense, but if you desire a child, I will bring you one.”
When Razul returned a few days later with a cowering child in tow, Ophelia watched in horror as he prepared to turn the child. She grabbed his hand, kneeling to look into the child’s eyes. “Do you have a name child?”
“O.. Olivia,” the child whispered softly, her eyes large and unblinking as she stared, hypnotized by Ophelia’s presence.
“Olivia, that is a beautiful name,” Ophelia replied, smiling. “My name is Ophelia Nightbloom. This man is my husband Razul. I know you are scared, child, but can you tell me, do you have any parents?”
Olivia glanced up at Razul, shrinking back momentarily. Ophelia took her hand and the young girl focused on her. “No, m’lady. My parents died of a wasting sickness two winters ago.”
“Would you like to live here in my home with me? It won’t be easy. You will learn and train your mind and body to be able to take care of yourself,” Ophelia filled her words with softness, but no compulsion. She didn’t want the child to be a slave, but a person she could raise like a real daughter.
Olivia’s eyes glanced around at the opulence of the room she stood in. She looked down at her filthy, worn-out clothes. Her dirty hands and feet stood out against the unmarred beauty of Ophelia’s skin and dress. With a tentative smile, Olivia replied, “Do you mean it m’lady? I could live here?”
Ophelia nodded before pulling the child into an embrace. She tilted her head and looked up at her husband. “Arrange for a tailor to come and measure the child for clothes. I will get her a room and a bath so she can be fitted. Then, the real work begins.”
Razul looked puzzled at first. “You do not wish to change her?”
Ophelia shook her head, standing and holding Olivia’s hand. “Not as she is, my love. I would not doom her to live her life as a child in body but not in mind. Once she is older, should she wish it. Then we will change her.”
Razul nodded and departed at once to retrieve the village seamstress. Ophelia took Olivia into her private bath chambers and helped the child to clean up, washing away months of dirt and grime. Once clean, Ophelia saw a budding beauty and grace within Olivia.
It didn’t take long for a routine to form. Razul still traveled extensively, gathering materials or research for Ophelia’s magic. Ophelia trained Olivia in the arcane arts, but the child didn’t seem to have as strong an aptitude for it.
Olivia’s reflexes though, even as a young girl, excelled. She was taught how to handle weapons and to fight. The small cadre of armed guards that House Nightbloom kept on hand soon took a liking to the newest member of the household, teaching her everything they knew of the arts of warfare. Her keen mind soaked up their knowledge, plotting new tactics and strategies on the fly during the mock combats arranged to test her growing abilities.
Olivia learned early of her “parents” condition, but never questioned the morality of it. They were her parents, the ones who took care of her. Razul would bring back treats and gifts in the early years from his travels. She learned to tap into the magicks of the Aether from Ophelia, though it was clear it was not a particularly strong talent.
Shortly after she reached what they all assumed must be her 23rd birthday, she approached her mother’s lab with shaking hands. She knocked, and entered at her mother’s reply, trying to shove down the lump forming in her throat.
Ophelia hugged her daughter, admiring again the beautiful and strong woman Olivia had become. She noticed the slight pinching around Olivia’s eyes and could hear the rapid beating of her daughter’s heart. “My child, what troubles you?”
“Mother,” Olivia began cautiously, picking over the words as one might a delectable array of fancy snacks before choosing one. “I am ready to become like you and father. I am ready to become a vampire and live with you both forever.”
Ophelia smiled, knowing this day was fast approaching. “Very well my daughter. When your father returns we will change you.”
Olivia paused, fidgeting again like the little girl that arrived in the manor some 15 years prior. “Thank you, Mother.” Her father had kept a distance from the girl, he wasn’t cold, but never seemed to be much of a father either. Olivia spent all of her time with her mother and the teachers brought in for her education.
When Razul returned later that month, a huge feast was held to celebrate Olivia’s becoming a full vampire. When she awoke and received her daylight protection ring, she felt the increase in senses and awareness. She left her room, seeking her parents.
She heard hushed whispers and giggles coming from a closet near the kitchens. As she approached, her enhanced ears picked up the distinct baritone of her father, Razul. “Listen pet, I run this house and family. I can cast aside anyone I wish. Even my wife if I so choose.”
A female voice giggles and moans. Olivia pauses, recognizing the voice of one of her mother’s handmaidens. Anger floods her and she grips the hilt of her dagger. Before she bursts into the room, a slender pale hand touches her wrist and she looks into the eyes of her mother.
Ophelia presses a finger to her lips and directs Olivia to follow her. The Nightbloom women retreat to the reinforced stone walls of Ophelia’s lab. Once secure within its magical walls, Ophelia speaks. “I know, sweetheart. I’ve known for a long time. He has had his dalliances since before you came to live with us. But I have made preparations of my own, and now that you are turned, I can enact my plan.”
Over the next days, mother and daughter lay their preparations for the patriarch of the house. Olivia goes hunting with Razul, a special blade tucked into her boot. Its metal enchanted by Ophelia with magic meant to sever Razul’s immortality.
Deep in the woods outside their home, Ophelia appeared, distracting Razul and freezing him while Olivia drove the blade into his unbeating heart before he could escape. As he lay there, the light fading from his eyes, Ophelia opened a pit in the earth and buried her unfaithful husband deeper than any grave ever dug.
Ophelia and Olivia returned to Nightbloom castle. They dispatched the conniving handmaiden and told the staff that Razul had gone off on another journey. As the months, then years, then centuries passed, Razul’s presence and even his memory was erased from the collective knowledge of the village built around their castle. Only Ophelia and her daughter Oliva ruled over the village of Nightbloom.