Volkihar Saturalia Tale: Gothic Romance, Molag Bal’s Eve & Raw Voice Takes 🥀❄️ (Patreon)

Howdy folks,

As a reminder we will be releasing this on December 1st. We will of course have more lines provided by peeps to add as well :)

For everyone who likes their holiday cheer dipped in shadows, velvet, and just a hint of Morticia and Gomez Addams energy, this one’s for you. The Sinister Serana Volkihar Version. It will be an optional download :) She views vampriism entirely as a gift and the 20th of evening star is still important to her.

Kerstyn knocked it out of the park tracking the vocal session for the Volkihar side of our Saturalia Tale. I drew pulled creativity from The Addams Family, classic Dracula, and vintage vampire tropes to give Serana a balance of regal predator arrogance and dark, intimate devotion. My Three Vampire Brides is a very good audio series.

Listen to the raw studio recording above, and check out the full script breakdown below:

Volkihar

Player: You’ve got that look again. The one where you stare into the dark like you own it.

Serana: Why look anywhere else? The shadows are far more hospitable than the sun.

Player: You haven't made a single complaint about the cold all morning. In fact, you're practically radiating anticipation.

Serana: It takes quite an occasion to stir my blood, Darkling. You should be flattered I'm sharing the mood.

Player: What has you so sharp today? Don't tell me it's just the season.

Serana: ...

Serana: Evening Star is turning. The twentieth draws near.

Player: The twentieth. Your pulse practically races just thinking about it. Well... metaphorically.

Serana: (Smirks, stepping closer) As it should. Respect where respect is due.

Player: Tell me what the twentieth means to you.

Serana: It is the night of dominion. The hour mortals tremble and offer tribute to the Lord of Brutality. Molag Bal’s sacred summons.

Player: Harkon revered that night.

Serana: My father understood divine power, even if his vision grew petty in the end. He did not simply seek strength. He offered our bloodline up to be remade in divine fire.

Player: The night you became what you are.

Serana: The altar. The blood binding stone to flesh. The agony of burning away mortal weakness until only supremacy remained.

Player: Serana...

Serana: Mother called it a blessing; Father called it our immortal birthright. They were right. I survived His trial. I claimed His gift. The chill that runs through my veins isn't a wound. Its a crown.

Player: And then Saturalia arrives right after.

Serana: Five days later, the rabble scatter into the snow, squealing about life, birth, and feeble little hearths. Drinking weak mead to drown out the terror of what walks in the dark. It’s utterly pitiful.

Player: Then let them have their petty feast. We celebrate our own way.

Serana: You think roasted fowl and pine needles hold a candle to the majesty of Coldharbour?

Player: I’m not talking about joining the flock. I’m talking about taking the midwinter spoils for ourselves. A feast fit for apex predators.

Serana: ...

Serana: You are dangerously bold today. I find I don't hate it.

Player: Lock the doors. Bar the world outside. Let the rest of Skyrim freeze in their ignorance while we reign inside.

Serana: Just you, an altar of our own, and no sniveling mortals to ruin the quiet?

Player: Exactly that.

Serana: You really don't fear what I am, do you?

Player: Never. If anything, it’s what draws me in.

Serana: ...Careful, Darkling. Stare too long into the abyss, and you might find it pulling you onto the altar.

Player: What does a proud vampire princess demand for midwinter?

Serana: Flagon upon flagon of spiced spiced vintage, a hearth high enough to cast long, cruel shadows, and quiet. Delicious, uninterrupted quiet.

Player: No barrows to plunder? No thralls begging for mercy?

Serana: Everything in its proper season. Tonight? A velvet throne, heavy sable pelts, and a partner bold enough to match my appetite.

Player: A partner, you say?

Serana: Don't fish for titles. You hold my attention… that is honor enough for one lifetime.

Player: I could wear the Saturalia jester hat. The one with the brass bell.

Serana: Don that humiliating rag and I will use vampiric grip to fling you off the ramparts. We are nobility, not circus performers.

Player: You’d miss my company before I even hit the sea of ghosts.

Serana: I might descend to fetch you. Or I might simply let you freeze until you learn reverence.

Player: Look above you.

Serana: What is this mockery? Snowberries?

Player: Positioned with exact tactical foresight right above the archway.

Serana: A mortal custom of entrapment. How delightfully brazen of you.

Player: Tradition gives me rights.

Serana: A sprig of dried winter-fruit gives you leverage over a Daughter of Coldharbour?

Player: You going to strike me down, or obey the custom?

Serana: Striking you down is too merciful. Submitting to your little snare, however... that sounds vastly more entertaining.

Player: Serana...

Serana: Step beneath the threshold, Darkling. Claim what you think is yours.

Player: It’s the twentieth. The sacred night.

Serana: I feel it humming in the earth. The Harvester of Souls looks upon the dark, and my blood answers.

Player: You're shivering.

Serana: Not from fear. Hunger. The divine chill in my marrow never truly sleeps.

Serana: ...Your pulse is beating like war drums. It’s intoxicating.

Player: My blood. I suppose I can give you some.

Serana: You offer yourself so freely to a predator?

Player: I know who I'm standing with.

Serana: Good. Don't look away. Share this dark with me.

Player: Happy Saturalia, Serana.

Serana: Lower your voice. Dawn will arrive soon enough to spoil our court.

Player: Here. Open it.

Serana: (Unwrapping a silver-bound journal) This is such a great journal.

Player: A blank grimoire. Fit for chronicling dominion, pacts, and the legacy we build together.

Serana: ...You truly understand what I am, don't you? No disgust. No petty moralizing.

Player: You're royalty. Act like it.

Serana: ...Then accept your tribute in kind.

Player: To Be Determined

Serana: It took three different merchants and a very subtle threat of violence to forge. If you lose it in some ruin, I’m locking you out in the snow.

Player: The snowberries are still watching us from above the door.

Serana: Let them watch. Even pagan gods enjoy a spectacle.

Player: Still planning to feed me to the gargoyles?

Serana: What a waste of good blood that would be. No... I have far more intimate rituals in mind for you.

Player: Come here, my princess.

Serana: Happy Saturalia, my dark champion. Now bleed your warmth into me before the sun dares to rise.