"I have seen nations and peoples reduced to ash and ghosts. It brought no pleasure, even to a heart as dark as mine."


Volkimir Sturmkirk
The Mortifier, Dark Prince of the Shadowlands


The coastal mountain ranges to the West of Ansus have a dark and bloody history, one often not discussed alongside the many other legends that fill the nation's colorful past. Nothing lingers there but darkness and sorrow, most say; all best left buried. In times long before the Unification, these reaches were called the Shadowlands, referring mostly to the thick forest that covered the rocky foothills. The Shadowlanders, a hardy and simple folk, were ruled over by their Prince, a scion of the noble bloodline of Sturmkirk, descending from the heartland kings of ages past. It came to be that one spring, famine gripped the Shadowlands, and what had once been fields and forests became naught but dust and death. The ruling Prince was known to be an alchemist and a wizard, and so devised many possible solutions to aid the plight of his people. His attempts failed, and the Shadowlanders starved in droves. When it came to be that his own wife and sons died from hunger, the Prince was finally driven mad, and bargained with a demon to end the plague. He summoned the monster Silgengar, an abyssal creature of infinite malice and dark cunning. In exchange for the blood of the Sturmkirk patron angel, Marycz, he would bestow on the Shadowlanders immunity to age and disease, and freedom from the curse of starvation.

The angel was lured, trapped and exsanguinated by the mad Prince, and Shilgengar held up his end of the bargain. The Prince and his remaining family were cursed with vampirism, so freeing them from the famine, but damning their souls to oblivion. Some say that the Prince wished only for eternal life, and was so satisfied by the bargain. Others claim that Shilgengar bestowed the famine on the lands, and so plotted the downfall of the noble Sturmkirks. Whatever the truth, the Sturmkirks quickly sank into untamed depravity and debauchery, keeping their peasantry as a farmer might keep cattle for slaughter. Blighted in the eyes of gods and men, the Shadowlands became vilified as a locus of pure evil. Witches, werewolves, and all manner of other monsters sought asylum in its depths, as there were none who would dare follow them.

Well after the Shadowlands had become known as a hell on earth, a man emerged. He roamed Ansus, searching for fame and fortune with which he might bring glory to his proud name. For he was the Prince of House Sturmkirk. Volkimir by birth, this enigmatic figure bared no shame in revealing himself to be a scion of the blighted vampiric house. Throughout the lands of Ansus and beyond, Volkimir plundered ancient tombs for treasure and lost artefacts, studied lost magical traditions, and sought dark and decadent displays of pleasure and carnality. Though he was a rarely-seen figure, he traveled far and wide, and so rumors built up greatly in the many lands through which he passed.

As ages passed, the Dark Prince had already passed into something of an urban legend. Stories of having seen him were dismissed, as no man could possibly still be around after such time. However, he was an immortal vampire, and as such was very much still alive and active. Volkimir's years affected him curiously; a larger world began to reveal itself to him. He found himself less concerned with his own escapades and enjoyment, and saw the needs of Ansus as issues that he was obligated to attend to. He took on a strange responsibility, to protect Ansus and its peoples from threats that their mortal perspectives could not perceive. He manipulated history to achieve his ends; sometimes from the shadows, sometimes in a display of power and ruthlessness. Where an assassination or siege may be foiled, the next year a leader or an entire people may be mercilessly culled. His exploits in these times were many, and to the common folk he was a capricious figure at best. Volkimir came to be seen more as an omen than a man, and none could say if he were one of good or ill.

The history books will only recognize Volkimir Sturmkirk in one place: the War of Midnight Suns. Just as suddenly as famine had befallen the Shadowlands, darkness fell upon the Heartlands of Ansus. The suns had fallen, and did not rise again even after days had passed. Then came the invasion of darkness. Apparently ill content with what remained of their territory to be exploited, the vampire nobles of the Shadowlands declared war on the Heartlands, and rode to conquer them. Hordes of undead and knights as dark as new moons filled their warhosts, and countless mortal armies were crushed by them. The Dark Prince would not abide this. Just as he had subtly manipulated the nations of the world to more suitable destinies, he again manipulated them to better fight the forces of evil. He taught them the weaknesses of the undead, and how to turn their armies against them. He lead warhosts of his own, meeting his own blood on the field of battle. After months of hardship and war unending, the suns once again rose, and the Shadowlanders had been driven back. The vampires cursed Volkimir, damning him as a traitor, and giving him the epitet of "Mortifier." Even with this, Volkimir knew there was more work to be done. With a host of warriors borrowed from the sovereign nations that he had saved, he rode into the depths of the Shadowlands, and was never seen again.

Time passed, the all was silent in the West. Monsters no longer creeped out from the Shadowlands, and skies cleared over the blighted kingdom. Slowly, frontiersmen returned to the lands to trap in the forests and harvest its lumber. Farmers followed, sowing fields that had been reaped in many years. Before long, the empty nation was entirely resettled, unofficially conquered by the common folk. The old castles were torn down, towns were built, and mention was never made again of the Shadowlands and the curse of House Sturmkirk.


As an ageless vampire, Volkimir is considered to be an avatar of dark and forbidden beauty. Seen usually as a tallish man with the well-balanced build of an experienced warrior, Volkimir Sturmkirk is a striking figure to behold. His features are sharp and angular, balanced by his masculine brow and strong jawline. His eyes are the most distinctive feature of his face; their black sclera and golden, luminous irises are distinctly inhuman, and Volkimir's gaze is piercing and predatory. Sharp, white fangs are revealed whenever he smiles or speaks, and his incisor teeth seem unnaturally sharp and jagged. His hair hangs to the top of his shoulderblades, and is so fair that in most lighting it seems completely white. Volkimir's skin, while usually so pale as to seem translucent, takes on a sickly, ashen hue when exposed to sunlight, stripping away his last disguise of humanity. While depictions vary depending on the particular instance, Volkimir's "signature" attire strikes a balance between the practicality of adventuring clothes, the mystique of a dark magician and the regality of a noble knight. A floor-length, ornate leather coat is worn over a enameled, ruby-encrusted breastplate. Engraved armor plates are set into the shoulders and forearms of the coat, the shins of his black, woolen trousers, and the toes of his thick-soled leather boots.


As a vampire, Volkimir is at once much more and much less than a normal man. His strength and speed are both mythic; far greater than what can be attained by common men. He can see in darkness just as well as in light, can hear a heartbeat from across a full feasting hall, and can smell a living bloodscent from a league away. If he so chooses, he can move in complete silence, become invisible, or fly through the air like a phantom of night. Neither age nor disease blights him, and his half-living flesh is greatly resistant to cold and poison. However, he is cursed to feed upon the lifeblood of mortals, requiring at least a human body's worth of blood every turn of the moon. Sunlight is his bane, searing his skin and punishing him with migraines should he come in direct contact with it. Silver nauseates him, and the sight of his own reflection fills him with delirium. Moonlight reflected in water or by a silver mirror inflicts Volkimir with temporary blindness, should it meet his eyes. Though he can recover from wounds faster than most mortal men, any wound inflicted by silver or living wood festers rather than heal cleanly.

Most mortals have but a few decades to practice their skills, whereas Volkimir has had thousands of years to perfect his own. He is a swordsman par excellence, wielding a bastard sword with inhuman power and grace. His knowledge of ancient cultures and legends are both profound, and he speaks many tongues both living and dead. A master manipulator, Volkimir is able to turn both common men and entire nations to his will. These are merely his mortal skills, as his magical arts are far more profound. Volkimir has studied and learned to wield a mostly-forgotten dark magic known as sangromancy. This school of magecraft controls and manipulates flesh, bone and blood, particularly the lattermost. As a sangromancer, Volkimir can imbue himself or others with unnatural strength and vitality, or instead sap and absorb the strength of others by draining their vital energies. Undead servants are his to raise and command, and he may mend damaged flesh and bone, or create strange structures from the natural materials of living creatures. Volkimir may induce rapid decay and entropy, famously allowing him to turn the flesh of his enemies to ash. One of his most legendary skills is to exert direct control over the blood and musculature of a living creature, allowing him to turn anything that bleeds into his personal flesh-puppet.

Almost as famous as the man himself is his legendary sword, Elbrus, the Bound Blade. While ornate in design and flawless in construction, Elbrus is quite unusual in having been forged of a metal not known to earthly smiths. The blade is seemingly unbreakable, with an edge as sharp as winter, and so dark in color that it appears to consume light rather than reflect it. Intensely magical, the sword absorbs the life-force of those it wounds, giving Volkimir a considerable advantage in lengthy duels. However, this is not a mere enchantment; Elbrus has bound within it a powerful demon, sealed within the sword countless ages ago by a holy warrior that gave his own life to contain the monster. The sword has an unspeakably unholy aura to those sensitive to such matters, and the demon whispers foul promises and fouler threats to anyone weak of will that comes to wield Elbrus.


The War of Midnight Suns was roughly 2,500 years ago, though Volkimir was born an indeterminate number of millennia before.