Palace Of Vampires

[Wilk]

´´What worlds exist insede of us?``

In a world cloaked in eternal night, a crimson full moon reigns over the heavens, casting a brooding glow that replaces the absent sun. Across this ominous sky, clouds drift in changing forms—sometimes they billow thickly, like smoky specters gathering strength, and at other times they stretch thin, mere lines slicing the heavens like a dark woven fabric extending in a single, solemn direction.

Here, the winds rage without end, carrying with them flecks of silver spray from a vast, shadowy ocean, its inky blue expanse encircling the entire world. At precisely midday, something strange and fearful occurs: the winds and waters still, as though the very essence of their motion has paused. Silence falls, thick as night. In this eerie stillness, the frozen waves transform into a landscape of motionless dunes, and the droplets once swept aloft by the tempest now shimmer in midair, vibrating like captured fragments of dreams.

Yet even in this pause, humans find no rest. Despite the stillness of the waters, they sink as if borne down by a hidden weight. Rare are those who float; most plummet as if no ocean lay beneath them but only a gaping abyss of air. It is for this reason they navigate these treacherous tides with ships, for ships alone mysteriously refuse to sink, defying the laws of this strange world.

The vampires, however, walk upon the waters. They need no vessel; the waves yield under their footsteps, parting like mist, as if an invisible floor lay just beneath the surface. The unmoving waves ripple only faintly beneath them, like sand disturbed by a light breeze.

At 11:11 each day, the tempest returns, breaking the spell. The winds howl back to life, and the ocean resumes its restless heave, driving all—human and vampire alike—to seek refuge in grand palaces scattered across the land.

In this realm, boots and frock coats are universal garb, as if by some unspoken law. Not every human wears a weapon, but vampires bear no such luxury; each carries a slender fencing sword at all times. Humans often travel in groups, wary of the dark’s unknown threats, but vampires walk alone, their paths solitary under the ever-watchful crimson moon.

 

[Wilk]

In a world cloaked in eternal night, a crimson full moon reigns over the heavens, casting a brooding glow that replaces the absent sun. Across this ominous sky, clouds drift in changing forms—sometimes they billow thickly, like smoky specters gathering strength, and at other times they stretch thin, mere lines slicing the heavens like a dark woven fabric extending in a single, solemn direction.

Here, the winds rage without end, carrying with them flecks of silver spray from a vast, shadowy ocean, its inky blue expanse encircling the entire world. At precisely midday, something strange and fearful occurs: the winds and waters still, as though the very essence of their motion has paused. Silence falls, thick as night. In this eerie stillness, the frozen waves transform into a landscape of motionless dunes, and the droplets once swept aloft by the tempest now shimmer in midair, vibrating like captured fragments of dreams.

Yet even in this pause, humans find no rest. Despite the stillness of the waters, they sink as if borne down by a hidden weight. Rare are those who float; most plummet as if no ocean lay beneath them but only a gaping abyss of air. It is for this reason they navigate these treacherous tides with ships, for ships alone mysteriously refuse to sink, defying the laws of this strange world.

The vampires, however, walk upon the waters. They need no vessel; the waves yield under their footsteps, parting like mist, as if an invisible floor lay just beneath the surface. The unmoving waves ripple only faintly beneath them, like sand disturbed by a light breeze.

At 11:11 each day, the tempest returns, breaking the spell. The winds howl back to life, and the ocean resumes its restless heave, driving all—human and vampire alike—to seek refuge in grand palaces scattered across the land.
In this realm, boots and frock coats are universal garb, as if by some unspoken law. Not every human wears a weapon, but vampires bear no such luxury; each carries a slender fencing sword at all times. Humans often travel in groups, wary of the dark’s unknown threats, but vampires walk alone, their paths solitary under the ever-watchful crimson moon.

 

[Wilk]

@Nihilus @dextermogin @Clone @Brezel @sigma

 

[Wilk]

@glamourpursuer @ChadL1te @RainbowDash @Kaari @ElietteRodger

 

[Wilk]

@Snowskinned @snowfox @RAJ GHRANDHICK @sportsmogger @hightrustchangmaxxing

 

[Wilk]

@n9wiff @menaquinone @Flame_Falcon

 

[RainbowDash]

It'll be my pleasure to say "dnr" first

 

[Clone]

The music and artwork

 

[RAJ GHRANDHICK]

@Snowskinned @snowfox @RAJ GHRANDHICK @sportsmogger @hightrustchangmaxxing

DNR