Schloss Mordenheim

Schloss Mordenheim looms like a corpse frozen mid-scream—a tangled amalgam of stone towers, iron scaffolding, glass observatories, and lightning rods that stab the sky like skeletal fingers. From a distance, it resembles a mad surgeon’s sketch of a castle, grown piecemeal over decades of manic vision rather than rational design.

• Gothic Foundations: The original fortress, centuries old, was once the private manor of a forgotten noble house. Its bones still remain in the central keep, now warped by additions.
• Mechanical Appendages: Clockwork lifts, piston-powered walkways, and retractable bridges link the towers, hissing with steam and howling when the wind tears through.
• Lightning Harvesters: Massive spires bristling with copper and blackened metal crackle with unnatural energy, drawing storms and channeling them into the castle’s arcane generators.

The sea below is cold, black, and hungry—jagged rocks dot the icy waters, and a screaming wind howls endlessly against the cliff face.

Inside, Schloss Mordenheim is a labyrinth of laboratories, surgical theaters, and decaying elegance, where function always overrides form. Every hall smells faintly of antiseptic, scorched metal, and something rotting.

• The Anatomical Gallery: A grand atrium where failed experiments are suspended in glass cylinders or mounted like trophies—limbs that twitch, eyes that follow, forms half-human and half-forgotten.
• The Great Reactor: Deep beneath the fortress churns a fusion of magic and science—an unstable arcane power core fed by bottled lightning and eldritch alchemy. Its pulse can be felt in the bones.
• Mordenheim’s Study: A cathedral-like chamber filled with chalkboards, books written in her own shorthand, vivisected specimens, and a throne-like operating table.
• The Gilded Wing: Once designed for Elise—Dr. Mordenheim’s lost beloved—this opulent suite remains pristine and untouched, sealed behind iron doors and warded by arcane sigils. Servants clean it obsessively, though no one lives there.

Schloss Mordenheim is the embodiment of Viktra’s mind: brilliant, cold, and unraveling. Time feels distorted here—the clocks tick erratically, candles burn against the wind, and sounds echo long after their source falls silent. Staff move silently—automatons, flesh golems, surgically altered assistants—and rare visitors are watched constantly, by cameras, eyes in jars, or something unseen.

• No one is truly alone in Schloss Mordenheim.
• Every room hums with power. Every corridor harbors memory.

Rumors and Horrors

• It’s said that one of Mordenheim’s earliest creations rules the dungeons below, a brilliant and resentful monster known only as “The Reflection.”
• A mirror in the Gilded Wing shows Elise as she once was—but watching too long drives one mad.
• The lightning rods don’t just collect energy—they draw spirits from the sky, used to animate new creations.
• Some parts of the castle move when unobserved, and old blueprints no longer match reality.