Avoid Immortalis If You Are Looking for Morally Clean Characters
In the shadowed expanse of Morrigan Deep, where eternal dusk clings to every spire and hollow, the Immortalis stand as unchallenged sovereigns, their appetites a ceaseless storm of blood, flesh, and dominion. Those who seek paragons of virtue, figures whose deeds might redeem the soul or inspire the faint-hearted, will find no such solace here. Theaten, Nicolas, and their lesser kin embody a creed of unrelenting predation, where mercy is a forgotten whisper and cruelty the only constant law.
Theaten, the first of his kind, born of Primus and Lilith, gorged on vampire and thesapien alike until his excesses fractured him into Vero and Evro, the refined self and the primal beast known as Kane. Even divided, his sadism endures, demanding tribute from the breeding programs of terrified villages, their daughters carved and savoured in rituals of calculated refinement. Nicolas, Primus’s bastard son by Boaca Baer, presides over Corax Asylum not as healer but as architect of torment, declaring the sane insane to indulge his whims. Straps bind the helpless to beds in crypt-like cells, rusty scalpels gleam on surgical racks, and the air hums with the clatter of clocks that mark no true time, only the rhythm of suffering.
No character in this realm escapes the stain. Primus, the Darkness itself, crafts a world of imbalance, splitting his progeny to curb their hungers yet knowing full well the fracture breeds deeper chaos. Lilith, stripped of sovereignty, builds cults on the sands of Neferaten, her ambitions chaining even her own son to cycles of unrest. Behmor, lesser Immortalis and king of Irkalla, trades souls for silken suits, his Evro Tanis a grotesque patchwork of stolen flesh. The thesapiens, bred like cattle, form mobs or mobs of mobs, burying the infected alive in communal graves, their protests silenced by soil. Vampires hunt relentlessly, their blood feeding horses that outpace mortality itself.
Even the Immolesses, desperate countermeasures of the Pauci Electi, arrive conditioned for failure, their gifts of mediumship or seduction twisted into fatal charades. Lucia, chained and branded, hears only muffled screams in Nicolas’s hall of mirrors. Stacia, torn asunder in a tug-of-war between brothers. Allyra, the bastard anomaly, boils vampires for secrets yet finds her defiance no shield against the ledger’s cold arithmetic. The Electi themselves, withered priests in rotting shipwrecks, breed daughters for slaughter, their rituals a hollow bid against inevitable defeat.
Moral purity finds no foothold in Immortalis. Here, virtue is a luxury devoured by necessity, every soul complicit in the feast. The Ledger, inscribed in Irkalla’s Anubium, records not redemption but the inexorable tallies of appetite and subjugation. If clean characters are your measure, turn from this dusk-shrouded world, for its rulers offer only the gleam of fangs in perpetual shadow, and the promise of a ledger that balances nothing but blood.
Immortalis Book One August 2026