#VoivodeWrites
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I wrote a little bit about Mikola remembering someone important to him—a touchstone.

1/2

A link to the full piece in 2/2

#VoivodeWrites #VoivodeVP #Mikola
July 8, 2026 at 8:40 PM
voivodebasarab.bsky.social
#Tavqotd Sexting!

Where Astarion is a perfect tease, Invictus is more a needy brat for his elf.
Personally I think Astarion won.

Oh well, I'm happy for them 😏

(Click on pics to see the texts)

#VoivodeVP #VoivodeWrites #Invictus #tav #bg3oc
July 7, 2026 at 11:46 PM
voivodebasarab.bsky.social
#Tavqotd
CW: suicide

Snippets of Durge's feelings!

My feelings:
-Durge lost that elf dick
-Lae'zel hates Durge
-Orpheus is lines of code, Durge ate his brain like it was romaine.
-Vlaakith can YASS on the gith forever.

*Pre patches BTW, I haven't made a Durge since 🫣

1/2

#VoivodeWrites
July 11, 2026 at 3:03 AM
voivodebasarab.bsky.social
Invictus is both Mephistopheles warlock and Consort... So do I write a fic where he alters the ritual letting Astarion be free of vampire weakness but not change him morally?

But surprise! The vampire essence has to go somewhere and forms Ascendant Astarion. 🫢

#VoivodeWrites #BG3fic #Astarion
July 8, 2026 at 11:50 PM
voivodebasarab.bsky.social
#OCQ&A First Kill.
Mikola's first kill was an act of mercy. How he handled it? Poorly. You see Mikola is ancient by vampire standards: 1046 in VTM/512 in BG3. He has lost his humanity from events like this.
#Tzimisce #vtmoc #bg3oc #tav #VoivodeWrites

Link:
ellipsus.com/read/5XQ9JQO...
Mikola's eyes blazed crimson as he spoke, "Depart from him. Tell others of your kind that any who dares walk my lands I will devour. NOW GO!" With his final word and collapse of his binding the demon fled as Dimitri fell to the ground. Mikola could hear his heart slowing, the demon had not lied the boy would die, a mortal cannot contain such power for long. The Koldun had gathered the boy into his arms as he felt the life in him ebb away, Dimitri was shaking, his skin hot to touch as though flame was beneath—he would pass in great pain. A hand clutched at the vampire's coat, "am I going to die, Voivode?" Dimitri's voice was raw, broken, and even now he used a title for the one who held him—foolish. "Yes, Dimitri. I am sorry." Horror was etched on the boy's face remembering what the demon had accomplished through him, his expression shifted as he was wracked with pain, the demon had fueled itself by feeding off of his life. "Please make it stop. Voivode, please make it stop…"
May 13, 2026 at 9:59 AM
voivodebasarab.bsky.social
Felt inspired and wrote a one-shot between The Voivode and Pain Daddy.
Enjoy!

My exact reaction to Abdirak: 🫪🫠

+++

"Let pain bathe your will in power."
— Zorislav, The Dracul
#Tzimisce #vtmOC #bg3OC #Abdirak #tav #VoivodeWrites
Let pain bathe your will in power. How many times had those words echoed within Mikola? This day they ignited the marrow in his ancient bones. The source? The one life merited interest over death—the pain priest. Mikola had echoed the words to the priest as though they were sacred. The man, Abdirak, had smiled brightly in response. “Select your instrument, priest, then we begin.” Abdirak smiled at the vampire with respect, colored at the edges with something… more. As Abdirak deliberated on his tool Mikola began undressing. His cape was removed first, folded and placed on the stone alter near by. The jacket, shirt, and adornments followed much the same, save for his trousers. Verily, the vampire was a vision: skin as though hewn of marble, every muscle perfectly defined, dark eyes that pierced the depths of a soul. A vision yes, but wrong, too curated and aligned—unnatural. “Yes, this will do nicely. Now face the wall—” Mikola's raised hand had silenced the silver-eyed mortal before him. Abdirak’s grip tightened on leather lash held in is hands, out of trepidation or anticipation was irrelevant, Mikola viewed pain and the ministration thereof as a nigh religious practice. “You are a man of faith, Abdirak. In this moment we stand upon holy ground, the land must be respected.” Mikola demonstrated his meaning by removing his boots to stand barefoot at the alter. “Now, let us begin.” Mikola's words were as an invitation to the Loviatan who accepted with religious fervor. The Koldun faced the stone and mirrored the stillness of it, the silence was broken by the crack of the lash to his back, and the inhuman roar that followed. The strike had tracked from the left shoulder blade to the base of Mikola's spine. Feeling his vitae running down his back was exquisite—oh how long it had been! “Your voice sounds so sweet, dear one.” Abdirak beamed whilst admiring the mark he left on Mikola's pallid flesh. Centering himself the priest let fly his lash once again, matching the first but on the vampire's right side now. The second mark left was beautiful, the beauty enhanced by the undead’s roar. The sound set Abdirak's blood alight, this petitioner was not like the others, not like them at all… “Yes! That's it dear one, let the goddess hear you!” The final strike landed with only the precision a master could perform. Pain exploded as the leather connected to flesh above Mikola's spine, this time the blow tracked the entire length of the backbone. Such was the effect that for fraction his vision went white and memory surfaced like a ghost ship from the sea of time.
May 7, 2026 at 1:15 PM
voivodebasarab.bsky.social
Memory.

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A few snippets of Mikola's past. I carried this over from his vtmlore to his bg3lore.
#Tzimisce #vtmOC #bg3OC #tav #VoivodeWrites
A boy of twenty laying on the wet stone of a secluded cell, half-naked, shivering as the winter gripped the land. The youth's spine twisted in a hideous shape, one deformity among others he carried since birth. A man's voice: “It is a broken monstrosity…” A woman's: “mercy would that It dies this winter…” An elder's: “It was born evil.” This whipping was almost preferable to the torture earlier in the week? Month? Time was difficult for the boy to trace—another strike. The smell of iron was sickening as he lay in the crimson pool that was it's source. Men stood in the dungeon as did the one who called him broken monstrosity… his father. The central figure was the one who had spoken, he knew it, not only did he look like power—he was power. Quickly the boy averted his gaze and dragged his shattered form towards the god before him. His head pressed to the cold stone before this god body bent as though in worship. “What is your name, child?” The boy cursed his body silently. Part of his brokenness was a twisted jaw, hampering his ability to speak like… a person. Born of fear and shame the boy kept his face to the floor as he stumbled through his answer. “M-mi-kola. Ba-sa… Basa-rab, Ex..cel..len…cy." “Let pain bathe your will in power, Mikola.” That voice, the voice of a god, the voice of The Dracul—Zorislav. The feeling of exquisite agony came as the shaping took place. Undoing these shapes which had never fit him truly: a crooked spine, the twisted jaw, the mangled left arm, and malformed leg which dragged behind. The process took years, little corrections to complete him, and when Zorislav's work was done The Voivode was born.
May 7, 2026 at 2:12 PM
voivodebasarab.bsky.social
#howIwriteWednesday

The biggest give away for my writing are a couple of things: 1) it sounds like how a person speaks—quirks and all 2) silly/uncaught typos. These are the ones I definitely know about and I'm certain there are more. 🤭

#VoivodeWrites
ellipsus.com Ellipsus @ellipsus.com · Jul 29
Style is what makes your voice unique, original, and all your own (read: AI could never)! Share your quirks loud and proud. This is #howIwriteWednesday.

Who else loves mega-long sentences? (Clock the triple digit text complexity, go off James 💁‍♀️)

What are your funny, unusual, or revealing patters?
A screenshot of Joyce's Ulysses in Ellipsus, with a text complexity score of 856.9
July 30, 2026 at 3:26 AM