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Aphelion Morwen Elizabeth Seremela (VI)
Created January 6, 2014
Status Semi-Active
Race Human
Hometown Riverhold
Classes Cleric
Followed DarkClaw
Relatives Briefly squired to Venom
Aphelion Seremela.jpg

Mud Contributions:

Aphelion was an aggressive competitor in the 2014 TFC Olympics, and took 4th place in the overall individual standings. Her efforts scored 57% of Team Lost's 3rd place finish in the overall competition.

Current Description (Feb 11, 2015)

A calm, closed expression casts an icy shadow over the unusually lovely 
features of this soldier. Her movements hold more leonine strength than
a gazelle's grace. Lush garnet lips are barely parted by the protrusion 
of sharp fangs, silvery eyes darkened to steel gray with Hunger unsated. 
Her long, crimson-streaked black hair is bound in a single braid to keep 
it out of her face in combat or when she Feeds.  

Dressing for the Kindred Masquerade: Dec 20, 2014

Bright silver eyes gaze back at you from behind the mysterious barrier of a 
black raven mask of suede and feathers. The beak of the mask is open, as if
in a scream of victory as she gathers the spirits of the slain. The pungent
scent of death and misery clings to the form of the entity before you and a 
ghostly mist trails behind her, as if for this one night, she has become an
Incarna of the Morrigan - the Carrion Crow - in truth and not masquerade.

Aphelion has a special twinkle in her eye.
Aphelion is in perfect health. 

Aphelion is using:
<used as light>     (Powerful magic) (Glowing) the Rod of Magic
<worn on finger>    (Artifact magic) (Transient Glow) A Memento of Hope Lost
<worn on finger>    (Moderate magic) (Glowing) (Humming) a ring of violet diamonds
<worn around neck>  (Token magic) a single glossy black feather
<worn around neck>  a high collar of black suede and sable feathers
<worn on body>      a form-fitting gown of black velvet with a feathered bodice
<worn on head>      a beaked raven mask of black leather and sable feathers
<worn on legs>      (Red Aura) sheer black silk stockings
<worn on arms>      long, wing-like sleeves of sable feathers
<worn about body>   (Moderate magic) a feather cloak
<worn around wrist> a set of bangles
<worn around wrist> a set of bangles
<wielded>           a raven's claw
<wielded off-hand>  a raven's claw
<worn with pride>   the Ebon Sigil Odegra
<worn with pride>   a scarlet ribbon bearing a medallion of nickel
<worn with pride>   a badge, a pin, 4 ribbons


Her struggle to control a new and unbearable Thirst is written all over the 
unusually lovely features of this soldier. Her lush crimson lips are parted 
by the protrusion of sharp fangs, her silvery eyes darkened to an icy steel 
gray. Her long, crimson-streaked black hair is bound back to keep it out of
her face and from becoming stained when she relents and slakes her Hunger.  
Drawing on her military training and deeply ingrained self-discipline, she 
focuses on the impossible task ahead:  to turn this unwelcome Rebirth into 
a useful tool or weapon, instead of the curse that has ended her bloodline
and stripped her of all that she held dear.  Her hands shift restlessly at
her sides, callouses visible on her palms from her weapon haft. Impeccable
armor, carefully maintained, wards her tall frame, but here and there, the
removal of insignia has left small scars upon its surface, another sign of
what has been Lost.


With eyes like the halo of frost around a silvery full moon, the woman
before you has an icy calm and reserve that is almost unsettling.  Her
demeanor is that of one born to privilege - and you can almost hear an
father's regretful, almost mournful tone: 'If only she had been born a 
man!'  Her piercing gaze sees through facades and self-illusion as she 
might through cold morning dew, through challenges and deceptions like 
the movement of pieces upon an inlaid chess board and through flattery 
and seduction like the scant veil of an oathbreaking nun.  Her hair is 
arranged into a noblewoman's coronet, an intricate arrangement of ebon 
strands, twin streaks of scarlet from her temples drawing your eye. To
underestimate her as simply a woman of means, however, would be error:
Her posture has the composed strength of one as capable in the courts,
be it Cillidellia or D'Or D'Terraithe, as on the blood-soaked field of
honor or glory.

WHO Lists:

01/07/14  -  Hum [       Cl: 8       ] Aphelion Morwen Seremela
01/13/14  -  Hum [    Ra: 9 Cl: 9    ] Aphelion Morwen Seremela
01/17/14  -  Hum [ Tg: 9 Cl: 9 Ra: 9 ] Aphelion Morwen Seremela
01/20/14  -  Hum [ Cl:12 Tg:12 Ra:12 ] Aphelion Morwen Seremela, Squired to Venom
01/25/14  -  Hum [ Cl:17 Ra:15 Tg:15 ] Aphelion Morwen Seremela, Squired to Venom
01/27/14  -  Hum [ Ra:17 Cl:18 Tg:15 ] Aphelion Morwen Seremela, Squired to Venom
02/03/14  -  Hum [ Cl:22 Tg:18 Ra:18 ] Aphelion has Lost her family name.
03/02/14  -  Hum [ Tg:25 Ra:25 Cl:25 ] Aphelion has lost more than her family name
04/29/14  -  Hum [ Ra:28 Cl:29 Tg:28 ] Aphelion: so much Lost, so much Gained
06/18/14  -  Hum [ Ra:29 Cl:30 Tg:29 ] Aphelion: so much Lost..
06/20/14  -  Hum [ Ra:30 Tg:30 Cl:30 ] Aphelion: so much Lost..
09/01/16  -  Hum [ Ra:30 Tg:30 Cl:30 ] Aphelion hides nary a sin. Kindred. Lost.
12/02/17  -  Hum [ Ra:30 Tg:30 Cl:30 ] Aphelion: Lost Kindred. Sanguine Advisor. 

Character History:

Part I

It is not the endless repetition of my tutors that was the musical score of my childhood – it was the cadence of marching feet and the calling of drills that echoed through the courtyard of the manor. Father took his duties as a captain of the Kayrron Guard seriously and the men at arms of our household were put through their paces no less rigorously than those of the city. As soon as I could hold a stick, I would mimic them from the balcony of my chamber, which had a bird’s eye view of their movements – far more interesting than practicing embroidery or canning preserves. Father indulged me, so long as my instructors gave me good marks, once bragging to a friend that I was a more apt student than most of his two-year cadets.

After his service to the guard was up, Father could have become a condottieri, but instead, decided to continue his service to Kayrron, as an ambassador. Cookery and the laying in of herbs were replaced with geography and language. We left behind the safety of our manor and moved in different circles: glittering courts with bright flowers and stalking creatures, intrigues and shadow dealings. I learned to wear the plumage and blend in with the other doves, despite a hawk’s heart, all while using my eyes to see and my ears to hear that which would assist my father in his negotiations. Hated lessons in dance mingled with memorizing the lineage of the Great Houses and the proper placement of forks -- and daggers. Whispers followed, of course – the false pity for a girl with a mother lost in childbirth, dragged about by a father more accustomed to the field of honor than the field of politics. I learned to ignore it; those lessons would prove handy.

Years passed; my world was my father and my governess, Shuvalriel, and our travels. I saw the gleaming spires of Cillidellia, travelled the ancient roads of the North, picked mushrooms in caves beneath dwarven cities, listened silently and veiled in vast deserts, knelt in prayer beneath a night sky, and learned of the One I would accept as my deity. Shuvalriel was pleased when I pledged to Onieros, dark Father of Dreams to the Drow elves. Her schooling in her native tongue had been peppered with ritual songs and tales of adventure.

I noticed first; the paleness to his features. The way that Father’s breath would sometimes catch unexpectedly during moments of exertion. His pace had slowed; it was to be expected, given the weight that soldiering buries deep in the bones. In his advanced years, old wounds pained him more, but this was something else, something more pernicious. None of the remedies in any of the lands we had travelled gave him comfort. I hired sages and priests to no avail; none could cure him, only ease the pain somewhat.

We returned to the manor in Kayrron for the first time in a decade and I sought out the oldest shelves of the library, seeking some mention of anything that could stave off this malady. There, I found a whisper of it: the blood of the Kindred was rumored to be a cure for any ailment. While Kindred were not uncommon in Kayrron, a recent edict by the Prince had sent them all into hiding, upon threat of meeting the sun – it appears his Highness had not appreciated the attentions of his favorite paramour being distracted by their presence. I would have to seek them elsewhere.

This is my quest; to find the cure.

Part II

Excerpt from the Court Record, Kayrron Archivist
Appended to Familia Seremela Annotation, Winter Moon, 23rd Year of the Reign of Arcon the Just
Word has been received from the Frontier Lands that the last living scion of House Seremela has passed. As Ambassador Seremela left no other heir, his estates and holdings will be held in trust by the Crown until an acknowledged member of the lineage may be found.

Personal Notes, Kayrron Archivist
'While it cannot enter the Records of the Court, the attached is documented for historical purposes. - A.'

"Honored Lady Albertha -
I must first start this missive with my thanks for all that you have done for my House, my revered Father, and myself. Your tireless research was invaluable, even though my own search was fruitless. The cure was found, but its cost was that which I hoped most to guard. It is, in truth, the sanguis mortis that might have saved my Father; a cure which he has long refused, when first we entertained that possibility. It is a bittersweet agony that within my breast, I now hold both cure and damnation. In its pursuit, a moment's civility became my undoing. I am mortal no more; a Kindred's thirst wracks me and the Queen of Night and Shadow commands my loyalty as my Maker, not the Head of my House or my Crown. I fear that this news will be the death of my Father. Better that he should think me lost on my journey, than this. I praythee, seal this record until after his death. By the laws of my beloved Kayrron, I cannot inherit. I have found some hint of remnants of an ancient line of House Seremela here in the Outlands, but both are broken women who have renounced all of who they are, or are in a state of unknowing. Let it pass to the matrilineal line, if an Heir can be found.
With all my respect,
I remain eternally,
Aphelion Morwen Elizabeth Seremela"

Part III

It appears that I am unique amongst the Queen's Chylder - the sole product of Her frenzy. All others were created with deliberation, or in moments of tenderness or passion. I think it likely the cause of Her distance: I am a badge of shame. My presence is a reminder of the depths to which She fell, violating my consent to the deepest extent possible.

As clear as the sun, I recall Her standing some distance away, arms folded, watching me writhe and scream out my life upon the cold stone floor.

"This is the part I hate," she murmured to her lover as I succumbed. No words of comfort, of guidance, but simply annoyance.

Since that moment, I have not had a moment's kindness from Her; only duty. I am a true-born Seremela, a veteran of the Six League War, and my father's daughter - I will not grovel for Her attention. Never has our Bond been one of openness and communion; it is no welcoming archway, but a barred gate, through which I can see what might have been. Few of the Lost acknowledge my existence, although the Eldest knows that I am his to command. Little Eluch, hag-ridden and cursed, is only a shadow of the playful boy that teased and trusted in those early days. Mayhem, thankfully, is gone; at least I need not hear his tormenting mockery. The rest I give what is required by duty and courtesy and no more. I avoid Her temple, and instead prowl the Night in solitude, just as I mastered my Thirst in solitude, sweating blood, my jaw clenched against the inferno of need within.

I have no use for most others, though from time to time, there are those who pique my interest. Bright motes of color amidst the shadow, drawing the eye and the attention for a moment, then fading away with their brief, butterfly lives. I prefer the stillness and the cold over the fire and fervor of humanity, with its tempting blood. I am not one of those who can live amongst them, savoring the torment of their nearness. I am proud to say that I have taken only those who face me in combat, who have a fighting chance. Never an innocent and never in the fervor of passion, but with the same regard and respect I gave those who stood against me upon the field of battle.

I have found a place where I can rest unmolested, letting the siren call of Night flow over me without disturbing my torpor. The gravekeeper is paid well to keep away the curious, and if I become a bedtime story mothers tell their children to keep them fearful of and safe from that which the Moon reveals, well, so much the better. May Onieros grant them sweeter dreams than mine.


  • Aphelion is the fifth vampire created by DarkClaw
  • Aphelion is the topic of two pieces written for the 50 Shades of Sanguinity. One was published, one was not.

Fifty Shades of Sanguinity: Lady Bright

She is my Ebon Valkyrie / I'd die so she could come for me
A warrior maiden, strong and proud, / Of whose praise I'll e're sing loud
Of noble mien and family / Forever she's a sight to see

Sweet Sappho's kiss our love illume / Then we'd leap the lover's broom
I'd clasp her to my curving breast / And woo her to 'til we made a nest
Just she and I, our limbs entwine / Her fangs in me would be divine

Her locks entangled in mine own / We'd never, ever, be alone
Hunting from sun down to rise / Then nestled in between her thighs
We'd sleep the sleep of sweetly damned | And never bear the touch of man

Aphelion, oh lady bright / I beg you bring me to the Night
Let my blood enrich your vein / Let it sweet your full lips stain
Then bid me rise by your Command / And at your side, forever stand

Oh Lady-mine, oh love so pure / There's naught for you I'd not endure
I swear to you, my heart is true / I'd give my life to be with you.
We, like Janus, bound as one / Until immortal life has run

Fifty Shades of Sanguinity: The Guardian Angel of Riverhold

Surely, I am cursed to hell, because I did nothing but watch while she drank him dry. I stared from the shadows of the doorway of Kaleb’s shop – from her challenge, to their fight, to her feeding. I should have done something – at the very least spoke up for a fellow Warden. But I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. She was a vision of pale marble. Dressed like a soldier but with the hips of a woman, she handled herself well in the fight, besting poor Ralf with relative ease. She overpowered him, knocking aside his sword with ease, and with those delicate hands, caught a handful of hair and forced his neck to the side. She whispered something to him – urgent and intense - her face creased with anguish, and then struck, like a lioness on a gazelle. He just stood there and let her do it, terror in his rolling eyes. It took longer than I thought. Longer than it takes to drain a pint at the Lemming. When she was done, she laid him down gently. Folded his arms over his chest, all proper like. Then she knelt beside him, laid her hand atop his hands, and prayed. Fire swept up and took him. She stayed kneeling the whole time he burned – the flames have to have scorched her - but it was over in a blink.

When she rose up, it was like that cold statue had come to life. Her lips were like cherries and her cheeks soft and warm, not ivory stone. Though she still walked with a soldier’s strength, there was a sway to it, hypnotic and beautiful. I whispered a prayer to the patron of warriors, Solanthas himself, that she not see me there. Stepping over to the well, she washed her face and hands, slicking them back through her hair to draw it from her face. Even her tits looked softer, more round, now, like plump handfuls swelling beneath her mail. My hands closed, without a single thought, aching to hold them.

I followed her from a very cautious distance as she walked the entire town, just barely keeping her in sight. I almost drew my sword when I peeked through a window and saw her leaning over a cradle in one apple picker's hut, but all she did was brush back the child's hair and kiss its brow, like a guardian angel. All night, I followed her. She entered every home. Checked on every child. And she wasn't just seeing if they were hurt - no, she was looking to see did the house have food. Was there a toy, even one as simple as a carved doll. Had they bathed that week? Then at each, she bent over and gave them all a kiss of blessing.

Beautiful and deadly and yet somehow, tender and kind as well... Or she was in that moment. It became less so, when she stalked down the leafy path by the river. The bandit captain never saw her coming, only the widening of his second's eyes to give the alarm before her mace crushed his skull.

Player Provided Information:

Personal Timeline:

01/06/14: Aphelion is created: A Solider Takes The Field
01/08/14: Aphelion meets Venom again.
01/20/14: Aphelion swears personal fealty to Venom for a year and a day: Aphelion is Squired
01/21/14: Aphelion is attacked by Ort and harassed by Sagan when she responds with silence. Sagan says (in common), 'Aphelion's not talking much, her mouth is probably full. :('. As an unaligned, the Rule of Three is not honored, having not been requested in advance.
01/25/14: Aphelion is slain by Ort. Determined to put this shame behind her, she gains nine ascensions in the next 36 hours.
01/28/14: Aphelion is slain by Zephyr.
01/30/14: Upon hearing of Aphelion's failures in combat, Venom Gives a Scolding.
02/03/14: Against her will, Aphelion is Turned by DarkClaw when she makes the mistake of offering the out-of-control vampire a blood oath, after her term of service is abruptly ended by Mayhem: Aphelion's End
02/05/14: Aphelion fights to learn: To Control Her Thirst
02/08/14: Aphelion wins the Olympic Rings Scavenger Hunt, with some assistance from Belsambar with the Black Ring. She spends time speaking with Eluch and training herself to control her Thirst.
02/09/14: Aphelion enters the Olympic Haiku, but does not place: Battle lines are drawn / Pawns facing across a board / Who will win today? She meets Ghazkull for the first time. Kindred Meets Kindred
02/12/14: Aphelion meets Arn.
02/25/14: Tynian announces the final standings, and Aphelion takes fourth place in the overall. Her efforts help push Team Lost to the Bronze Medal, with 57% of their total score coming from Aphelion's contributions.
06/20/14: At the request of The Eldest, Aphelion seeks and obtains her final Ascension, witnessed by DarkClaw and Orpik.
09/22/14 Foghair seeks to learn what lies behind Aphelion's mask.
10/15/14: Venom refers to Ghazkull as 'the traitor' and Aphelion seeks to learn why.
11/17/14: Aphelion realizes there is something awry with Eluch and gains counsel on Venom's claim of continued fealty.
12/20/14: Aphelion attends The Kindred Masquerade Ball.

07/15/15: Aphelion is attacked thrice by Ghazkull in an attempt to complete one of the requirements of Wyld for his Triat Mastery Quest. He is unsuccessful.
07/17/15: The Triat Initiate provides an explanation for his attacks, and acquiesces to Aphelion's required act of contrition: Ghazkull's Contrition

09/01/16: Aphelion discusses Hunger with the Eldest.

Player Information: