Elvira Mortisblood
the Duskdrinker Countess
Named for the counsel of elves turned to blood and death, a name that tastes of iron and forgotten oaths.
Power
You can pull the shadow from a living thing and drink its warmth, leaving it cold and drained but alive — yet each shadow you take shortens your own night by an hour, until dawn finds you brittle as old bone.
- Familiar
- a pine marten named Locket
- Bloodline
- House Mortisblood
You are pressing a silver coin into the eye socket of a corpse that refuses to close its mouth. The tongue is gone — you took it three centuries ago for lying to you. The coin is the ninth you have placed tonight, and still the dead will not speak. You have not needed them to speak for a very long time.