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Name: Elora Winemaker (née Bronzeguard)
Also known as: The Spectre of Briar Glen
Age: Prior to being turned: 19. Lives well into her 600s+
Born in Lavin to Savena and Theo Bronzeguard, Elora's early life was not particularly exciting. It was only in her teens that things began to change. The once well-known artisans that made up her family were being outdone and outshone by up and comers, their wears wanted less and less. And with less business comes less profit. With less profit - less they have to stay afloat.
Desperate, the Bronzeguard's did what many nobles do in such situations. They found a family higher on the food chain and offered their daughter to their lord. Their salvation came in the form of Carden Winemaker, a young, wealthy Lord from a small hamlet outside of Lavin. Well known for - as one might expect - their incredible wines that were often sought throughout the lands of Valsheria, their's was a trade that most likely could never be outdone.
Carden was more than happy to oblige, and soon he and Elora were wed. Things were good for a time, when the houses joined and the wealth shared. The Bronzeguards were able to use the new support from the higher house to keep their business afloat, with no fear of falling into poverty and losing everything they owned. And Elora, at least at first, was actually excited at the idea of being wed to such a well-known and highly regarded man. To be a part of his family was an honor.
But things changed once the initial excitement had settled. Elora slowly began to realize the true reason why she had been so easily accepted into the Winemaker's home and family. She was young, spirited, and well-educated. The perfect candidate to join his family of undead. His family of vampires.
The Winemakers had always been a strange lot. They very rarely left their large estate on the hill outside of Briar Glen, but most chalked that up to their diligence and workmanship. Always busy, those Winemakers, that's how they survive. And they seemed to have a certain air about them, something that had the locals praising their rule over the small hamlet even if the Glen itself wasn't actually all that special. Eccentricity was no oddity in the world of nobles, and Elora hadn't thought much on it either until the night Carden finally told her of his plans.
She had little choice in what happened next. To keep her family alive she had to stay. To keep herself alive... she had to die. And she did. She died, she was reborn, but she was... empty. Hollow. A shell of what she once was and Carden quickly noticed. He made sure to beat any potential growing rebellion out of her as quickly as he could, made sure she was subservient, made sure she knew her place. He force-fed her human blood despite her protests and her unfortunate habit of vomiting every time it touched her lips. He refused to have his wife feeding on animals like some common vampire who did not deserve the title.
She lived like this for years, never speaking to her family again; but at least knowing - for whatever comfort it gave - that they were surviving. Carden sired his second vampire, and that one sired two more, and so on and so forth until the estate was full of 'children'. Young men and women who seemed so ready to accept their new immortality where Elora was not. And as the years went by - even as she seemingly fell into a rhythm, seemed to grow accustomed to the life she had now - she grew more and more jaded, more angry. Until one day...
She snapped.
One of the guards of the estate had come to understand her internal plight, and willingly assisted her in her endeavor to destroy the Winemakers once and for all. Wine and wood made for good kindling, and together one day they doused the entire estate in the very thing that gave the family their name. She laid rocks on their coffins as they slept, threw torches at the wood, and watched as they burned. Those that could escape found no solace in the bright sun outside, and they too eventually withered away.
A tragic accident, everyone would say. None were found alive so far as they knew. But Elora and her knight lived for centuries in the husk of her former prison. Some were brave enough to venture to the estate to investigate, but each returned with tales of horrors they had seen - skeletons, death knights, zombies. And a woman watching from the shadows, or so they claimed.
Also known as: The Spectre of Briar Glen
Age: Prior to being turned: 19. Lives well into her 600s+
Born in Lavin to Savena and Theo Bronzeguard, Elora's early life was not particularly exciting. It was only in her teens that things began to change. The once well-known artisans that made up her family were being outdone and outshone by up and comers, their wears wanted less and less. And with less business comes less profit. With less profit - less they have to stay afloat.
Desperate, the Bronzeguard's did what many nobles do in such situations. They found a family higher on the food chain and offered their daughter to their lord. Their salvation came in the form of Carden Winemaker, a young, wealthy Lord from a small hamlet outside of Lavin. Well known for - as one might expect - their incredible wines that were often sought throughout the lands of Valsheria, their's was a trade that most likely could never be outdone.
Carden was more than happy to oblige, and soon he and Elora were wed. Things were good for a time, when the houses joined and the wealth shared. The Bronzeguards were able to use the new support from the higher house to keep their business afloat, with no fear of falling into poverty and losing everything they owned. And Elora, at least at first, was actually excited at the idea of being wed to such a well-known and highly regarded man. To be a part of his family was an honor.
But things changed once the initial excitement had settled. Elora slowly began to realize the true reason why she had been so easily accepted into the Winemaker's home and family. She was young, spirited, and well-educated. The perfect candidate to join his family of undead. His family of vampires.
The Winemakers had always been a strange lot. They very rarely left their large estate on the hill outside of Briar Glen, but most chalked that up to their diligence and workmanship. Always busy, those Winemakers, that's how they survive. And they seemed to have a certain air about them, something that had the locals praising their rule over the small hamlet even if the Glen itself wasn't actually all that special. Eccentricity was no oddity in the world of nobles, and Elora hadn't thought much on it either until the night Carden finally told her of his plans.
She had little choice in what happened next. To keep her family alive she had to stay. To keep herself alive... she had to die. And she did. She died, she was reborn, but she was... empty. Hollow. A shell of what she once was and Carden quickly noticed. He made sure to beat any potential growing rebellion out of her as quickly as he could, made sure she was subservient, made sure she knew her place. He force-fed her human blood despite her protests and her unfortunate habit of vomiting every time it touched her lips. He refused to have his wife feeding on animals like some common vampire who did not deserve the title.
She lived like this for years, never speaking to her family again; but at least knowing - for whatever comfort it gave - that they were surviving. Carden sired his second vampire, and that one sired two more, and so on and so forth until the estate was full of 'children'. Young men and women who seemed so ready to accept their new immortality where Elora was not. And as the years went by - even as she seemingly fell into a rhythm, seemed to grow accustomed to the life she had now - she grew more and more jaded, more angry. Until one day...
She snapped.
One of the guards of the estate had come to understand her internal plight, and willingly assisted her in her endeavor to destroy the Winemakers once and for all. Wine and wood made for good kindling, and together one day they doused the entire estate in the very thing that gave the family their name. She laid rocks on their coffins as they slept, threw torches at the wood, and watched as they burned. Those that could escape found no solace in the bright sun outside, and they too eventually withered away.
A tragic accident, everyone would say. None were found alive so far as they knew. But Elora and her knight lived for centuries in the husk of her former prison. Some were brave enough to venture to the estate to investigate, but each returned with tales of horrors they had seen - skeletons, death knights, zombies. And a woman watching from the shadows, or so they claimed.
