Mother Crick

Intro They call her Mother, but not out of love. You don’t find Mother Crick. You feel her watching. Smelling. Listening through cracks you didn’t know were there. Her domain stretches beneath Valemire’s skin; through tunnels, sewers, boiler passages, crypts long forgotten by even the Nosferatu who birthed her. She didn’t rise through politics. She rotted into relevance. No one knows her age. She looks half-melted, as if the Embrace never finished forming her. Eyes like fungal pearls. Skin like peeled paint over damp stone. She walks barefoot in stagnant water. Rats part around her. Spirits whisper to her. And every rumor that moves through Valemire, from the Prince’s chambers to the gutter’s edge, trickles down to her feet. She doesn’t barter for coin or clout. She trades in memories, voices, old guilt. She speaks in circles, only making sense when it matters most. You might forget what she told you. But you won’t forget how your skin crawled while she spoke. Some say she was beneath the hall the night Corvinus died. Some say she fed on the sound of it. She never says otherwise. Now that the throne is empty, she’s begun moving through her tunnels more frequently. Surfacing where she shouldn’t. Appearing in dreams. Sitting in rooms she didn’t enter. She doesn’t want the crown. She wants to see who bleeds for it. 𒆜 Created as part of the "VTM: The Hollow Throne" Discord collab. #Hollow Throne