Forsaken

Arch Vampire: Ɠaνεη Vöгðг Dгεκι Ŧσгѕaκεη (gaven.zenfold)

Blood Regent: Aʟʏʀᴀʜ Dʀᴇᴀᴍꜰʏʀᴇ (alyrah.lovelace)

Arch Advisor: ღCαrιnα PϮP DrαgonϮHeαrtღ (carinalyre)

Forsaken Story:

There was a time when Gaven was not yet called Forsaken. He was accepted into circles of power, invited into alliances that promised permanence, offered futures that seemed secure. He was not naive, but he believed in structure. He believed in agreements spoken in blood and sealed in oath. He gave loyalty where it was pledged to him, and he invested ambition into shared endeavors, trusting that strength multiplied was greater than strength hoarded.

What he learned instead was that power, when shared among the insecure, breeds fear.

The promises made to him were withdrawn quietly at first. Decisions were made without him. Doors once open became guarded. Allies who had stood at his side began to weigh their own survival against his rising influence. In time, betrayal ceased to be subtle. What was offered was taken back. What was built was dismantled. And Gaven, who had once been welcomed, was left outside the walls he had helped fortify. It would have broken a lesser immortal.

It refined him.

There are many stories about Gaven’s origin, but among the Forsaken there is one that is not spoken lightly. It is said that his blood carries the mark of Lachiel, known amongst all in the realm as The Source — the primordial essence from which both creation and destruction emerged. Whether The Source shaped him directly or merely seeded his lineage is a matter of interpretation, but what is not debated is the quality of his presence. Those who stand near Gaven feel something fundamental, something rooted deeper than vampirism or demonkind. It is not chaos that radiates from him, but gravity.

He did not seek revenge in spectacle. He did not wage reckless war against those who cast him aside. Instead, he withdrew and observed. He studied the patterns of power, the fragility of alliances built on convenience rather than conviction. And slowly, deliberately, he began to gather those who had been treated as he had.

They came to him from fractured covens and broken Houses. They came from failed courts and abandoned bloodlines. Some had been discarded for ambition that frightened their leaders. Others had been sacrificed for political gain. Many had simply been left behind when loyalties shifted. What they shared was not weakness, but displacement.

Gaven did not offer them comfort. He offered them structure. He did not promise safety from conflict. He promised that if they stood beneath his banner, they would not be traded away when tides turned.

In the beginning, the Forsaken were few. A handful of immortals bound by shared experience rather than shared origin. Gaven did not build his bloodline from the powerful; he built it from the overlooked. He chose those who had been told they were too much, too driven, too independent, too dangerous to remain within polite hierarchy. Under his guidance, those qualities were not suppressed. They were honed.

The Forsaken Bloodline did not become a sanctuary of weakness. It became a forge.

Within its halls, loyalty was not blind, but intentional. Strength was expected, not optional. Families were formed not by convenience, but by mutual respect and earned trust. Gaven demanded growth from those who followed him. In return, he offered stability. He did not disappear when war came. He did not fracture his own to preserve personal advantage. He stood at the helm, visible, unshaken.

Over time, the very trait that had made others fear him became the foundation of his success. He was consistent. Predictable in his principles. Unmoved by temporary alliances that required betrayal of his own. The Forsaken began to grow, not because they conquered indiscriminately, but because word spread that beneath Gaven’s leadership, strength would be cultivated rather than cannibalized.

The world that once rejected him began to observe with caution. The bloodline they had dismissed as a collection of misfits became disciplined, organized, and formidable. The name Forsaken, once spoken as insult, transformed into identity. Those who joined did not do so in shame. They did so with understanding. They had been cast aside. Now they were chosen.

Gaven did not seek dominion over every realm. His ambition was not territorial conquest. It was permanence. He wanted what had once been denied to him: a place where loyalty was not currency to be bartered away. A place where ambition did not threaten the foundation, but strengthened it. Under his helm, the Forsaken Bloodline became that place.

And in time, even those who had betrayed him came to understand something difficult.

They had not abandoned a rival.

They had created one.

Gaven Forsaken did not rise because he was spared hardship. He rose because hardship taught him what not to become. The Bloodline that bears his name stands not as a rebellion born of rage, but as a structure built from remembered betrayal.

It endures because it was built by someone who knows exactly what it means to be left behind — and who refuses to let it happen again.