Café de Nuit

Liliend

'Love will destroy the world.'
- Stephen King

Liliend at a glance.

Cultural level: Chivalric (8)
Ecology: Full
Climate / Terrain: Temperate forests, hills and mountains
Year of formation: 744 BC
Population: 38,800
Races: Humans 85%, Elves 8%, Half-Elves 4%, Ogier 3%
Languages:
Religions: Artemis*, Athena, Ares
Government: Hereditary monarchy
Ruler: Queen Rosa Sunderwood
Darklord: Camille Churnstone

After what seemed like an eternity spent in the cloying embrace of the Mists, I was deeply relieved to hear the sounds of nature and see the forested landscape of Liliend.
My relief was short-lived; I was lucky enough to discover one of the great roads, but that only after weeks travelling rough through the domain's dense forest. Apart from the very real danger of starvation due to the dearth of edible flora and fauna, I almost lost my life several times because of the way the forest grows right up to the edge of cliffs, obscuring the danger until the very last moment. On top of that, the nights were miserable due to rain and cold, and I am convinced that I would have died if I had not been discovered limping along the road.
I recall thinking I was safe at last... I should have been wiser.

Landscape

Liliend is a land of edges and levels. Depending on one's orientation, the land either descends from or rises into the Mists at its western border in spurts and lurches; the sudden bursts of elevation are uneven and abrupt, leading to the high danger of deadly falls for the unwarned and inexperienced hiker.
Two mighty rivers run down from the highest peaks in the west towards the eastern border: the Birgesblot and the Wittwentraen are both white-water rivers whose flow seems to have carved out many of the ravines over the centuries, and whose smaller branches spiderweb the nation. Although the locals claim that the two main flows are too powerful and treacherous to be used for transport, there are numerous high-arching bridges that allow for cart traffic and are connected to the domain's roads. The lesser rivers, which are collectively knows as the Daughters, see a lot of traffic in the form of privately owned pleasure-crafts and professionally-operated ships that transport goods and harvest the fish that come to feast and spawn at the shoreline.
Every inch of the land that is not absolutely vertical, urbanised, paved or a river is covered in dense forest. Deciduous trees dominate on the lower reaches near the eastern border, but the higher one goes, the more coniferous trees take over the landscape. Although all the species I observed would seem perfectly at home in the Core, their ability to grow on sharply inclined surfaces and cling to rock-faces is jarring when first seen.
Considering the abundant growth, I would have expected the domain to be rife with birds and the animals known to dwell in the wild forest, but encountered barely any during my stay. Small birds, such as sparrows and finches, tend to nest close to the dwellings of humans and Half-Elves and I once found some spoor that seems to indicate the existence of rabbits and foxes in the deep forest, but I never saw any live specimens - more's the pity, during my weeks of starvation.
The land takes on a different aspect around the dwellings of humans and Half-Elves. Over the years, the good people of Liliend have managed to transform some of the more horizontal patches of their land into havens of civilization and prosperity. Elegant cities of bronze-tipped spires and glass domes sit at the heart of tidy circles of farmland. Both humble farmer's cottages and noble villas have walls of white-washed stone, and all the settlements I was shown displayed an almost obsessive neatness and state of good maintenance. Cities and villages both are open to travellers; the domain's great roads connect all the dwellings of humans and Half-Elf and there are no city walls anywhere. Crop rotation ensures that what land is available for farming remains so, and I was informed that the average field yields several crops every year.
I must admit that I have only been to two cities, Blümhage and Ostgard, as well as their satellite villages, but I was assured that all the domain's cities have roughly the same layout. Liliend's cities are laid out in circles, with each ring dedicated to a specific purpose. At the core lies the political section, where the city's rulers and administrators conduct the business of politics. Next is the ring of finance, where matters of money such as taxation, trade and banking take place. Third is the ring of arms, where the city guard and the army have their quarters, training grounds, arsenal and other needs. Fourth is the ring of industry, where the city's crafts and industries are housed. Fifth is the final, largest ring, which provides housing for citizens, shops and various other services deemed to be of 'less critical importance'.
One service which I did not find while touring Blümhage was, significantly, higher education. You will see why this is so later in my report.

Dread Possibility: The Silent Cities

Although the people of Liliend maintain that there are many cities and towns, hidden in the deep forest of their homeland and all connected by the great roads, this is not true. Of the dozens of cities and hundreds of villages, only a handful remain, all in close proximity to one another and located relatively close to the eastern border.
All other cities succumbed to the effects of the Plague of Ares and their citizens died out - but their homes are not abandoned. The dead of Liliend's silent cities still go through the motions of life, but now they do so after dark, when their corpses stir from the beds they lie down in at the crack of dawn, and shuffle along the streets where they once lived.
This, combined with Camille Churnstone's depredations and the activity of the church of Artemis, is the reason there is so little wildlife in the domain; first came scavengers, eager for a meal when they smelled the intense odour of rot coming from the human dwellings - and they were killed. After that, the undead started to leave their homes to hunt for fresh meat, as they had done in life, but now without any notion of the balance of nature and without any natural limits to stop them from continuing the hunt until the approach of dawn drew them home.
The only reason the zombies have not attacked any living humans or Half-Elves yet, is that they are normally bound to their cities. At dusk they stir, but at dawn they must lie in their beds or else turn to dust. The Elves of Liliend fear what might happen if anyone discovers the undead and tries to find a way to control them and perhaps even overcome their one limitation; this is why they will violently prevent anyone from going near the Silent Cities - provided they spot and stop them in time.

History

Liliend's people cherish their history as a nation of energetic advance and achievement, and certainly the domain has much to recommend it. Its cities and towns are clean, well-appointed and well-provided for thanks to its government's sensible balance between a hands-off policy with regards to the farmers and providing them with every scientific advance avaible for the performance of their trade. The great roads that connect the cities and towns are a marvel of engineering, which make travelling through the domain at worst a matter of tedium, rather than a potentially terminally exciting slog through trackless forests.
That said, all history before the recent is vague and spotty. I have reviewed history books, I have spoken to old people, I have even - with great reluctance and only because of the Geas placed upon me - performed a few simple divinations. None of my efforts managed to unearth more than some vague, foggy mentions of the 'Age of Many Kings' which precedes the current period.
During these indistinct ancestral times, every peak and township had its own little 'king'; typically the biggest armour-wearing, sword-wielding, bully-leading bully on whatever mountain he inhabited. The kings were in a constant state of conflict, sending their 'knights' (thugs in armour) to raze and burn the lands of their competitors and if possible prevent them from doing the same to their own territory. There are mentions of the sister goddesses - Artemis and Athena - appearing to the people and presenting them with what amounts to an ultimatum; either get civilized and stop ripping the beauty of nature apart in their endless clashes, or the goddesses would inflict a suitable punishment upon them. The truth of the matter is hidden from me, however, and if you desire better information you will have to spell-bind an better investigator.
The current period is locally known as the Time of Ascent, and begins with the Compact of Kings, a copy of which is available in the library of every city and township, and which may be copied again on request - and for a small amount of silver. The Compact is a fairly straightforward document, which required the various kings to let their heirs intermarry and to continue doing so until one royal line would emerge for all the land. As the fragmented royal lines drew together, inter-settlement cooperation grew ever stronger, until all of Liliend was united under the rule of the Sunderwood Kings.
Athenaeüs Sunderwood, the first High King, ordered the construction of the great roads that bind the domain together. He died before the work was finished, as did his son after him, but they also both started the renovation of their nation's cities and started the practice of sending children away from home to pursue a higher education. In the words of Athenaeüs, quoted over the door of many a finishing school, 'It is only when we step out of the circle of the familiar that our minds open up to the new'. Numerous boarding schools stand as independent testament to the vision of the first High King; they are connected to the roads but not part of any settlement and completely self-sufficient.
As educated youngsters returned home to share the knowledge they had absorbed during their education, the quality of life in Liliend improved hand over fist in all areas save one; there was increasing unrest among the priesthood of Ares, which had reigned supreme in spiritual matters during the Age of Many Kings, but now saw its power dwindling and lamented the cessation of violent hostilities. Ever more forceful complaints to the High Kings and their nobles that great Ares demanded war fell on deaf ears, and finally the priesthood of Ares was banned from the Royal Court in the capitol of Garlande. The temples of Ares were torn down or converted into temples of Athena or storage buildings for grain and other amenities. Few outside the actual priesthood regretted the shift in Liliend's spiritual landscape, and there did not seem to be any ill effect from the change.
Not until roughly one hundred years ago, that is.
Through painstaking comparison of local calendars and records of lunar and stellar patterns, I have determined that the event now known as the 'Plague of Ares' must have taken place in or around 644 BC. One evening, the good folk of Liliend went to bed to sleep the sleep of the innocent, or at least that of the hard-working. When dawn came, only the land's women awoke - and they awoke to the scent of gore. Every adult man in the domain had died in the night, their bodies bloated and burst so the blood soaked their sheets. Only prepubescent boys had been spared. Even in those days, contact between the land's humans and Elves was sparse, so it is by no means certain that the Elves suffered the same as their human neighbours. Given that adult male Elves are sometimes sighted, there is some suspicion that the Elves are immune to the Plague of Ares - and even some darker whispers that the Elves are involved with it.

Dread Possibility: Plague of Hate

While the Elves are wholly innocent of involvement with the Plague of Ares, they have some terrible detractors. Even now, some of the human and Half-Elf citizens of Liliend are training themselves in the arts of stealth and archery. A time may well come when Elves become an even rarer sight in the domain due to nocturnal sniper-fire... or else a war may break out, fit to please Ares.

Logically, the women of Liliend took over complete control of their realm. By order of then Queen Birke Sunderwood, the surviving priestesses of Ares were rounded up and put to the question. Each protested her innocence while being broken on the rack, pulled apart by oxen or cut into pieces with red-hot knives, until finally there were no living priests of Ares left in all the land... just as there were no more adult men.
In the years since, the Sunderwood monarchy has taken steps to ensure the survival of the nation. To start with, all inheritance now flows through the female line; no matter who a Lilliend woman marries, the man must marry into her family and property can only pass to children born to her or to an heir designated by her, but never to her husband. Every year, Lilliend sends out missives to neighbouring nations of sufficiently advanced cultural level, inviting landless men of strength, resolve and good health to come to Lilliend and partake of its offer of land grants and guaranteed marriage - provided they are willing to abide by local laws. While the borders are open to such men of quality, the Sunderwood line has closed them to barbaric invaders who thought to capitalize on a nation whose principal defenders had fallen. The eastern border is a vast array of traps, where Lilliend's all-woman army constantly digs and camouflages pits, sets ambushes and readies the conditions for surprise - and lethal - avalanches. All of this additional security also ensures that none of the men who answer the missives will just wander into the forest and try to set up a homestead there, but that they are immediately brought to one of the cities to be wed and put up in a farmhouse or townhouse.
These decisions have certainly saved the populace from going extinct or being bred into obscurity by the inflow of foreign men while the nation's young boys were still maturing, but they have done nothing about the root of the land's problem.
The Plague of Ares is, after all, not merely an event in the past; it is an ongoing problem.

Populace

The native humans of Lilliend are tall people who tend to be elegant in their movement; even peasants grubbing in the mud display this trait. Dark hair and eyes are predominant, but the natives' fair skin tans quickly and easily if exposed to enough sun. Understandably, a healthy tan is commonly associated with the lower working classes; those who spend all day out in the sun, toiling to provide food for the nation. Contrary to what is common in many other domains, signs of being a farmer are not cause for mockery and dismissal in the cities, but rather for mild appreciation. Every native human and Half-Elf of Lilliend knows that the farms are what keep the cities alive.
It is interesting to note that the distinctive traits of the native humans have stayed strong despite the influx of foreign blood. Without experimentation, it is impossible to determine how many generations of cross-breeding would alter the traits common to the natives, and the practice of alternating 'marrying out' with 'marrying in' across the generations - respectively marrying foreigners and marrying the sons born of unions with foreigners - is serving to maintain the Lilliend look.

I have extremely limited experience of the domain's Elves. My one attempt to ferret out an Elf settlement saw me turned around in the forest so many times that I lost my way, only for the ground to suddenly sprout arrows and for Elves to appear. They never said a word to me, but blindfolded me and abandoned me on the edge of the plateau that holds Blümhage; I took the hint and did not try to find any of their settlements afterwards.
From what I saw, the native Elves of Lilliend are likewise a tall and graceful people, whose skin- and hair-colours I could not determine due to the Elves apparent practice of applying grey and green paints to both their skin and hair to help them blend in with their forest surroundings.

The Half-Elves of Lilliend are a distinct minority, but one which is embraced by the human natives. Hair colours range between dark and pale blondes, while eyes are universally one of a multitude of shades of vibrant green. In the Half-Elves, the grace of human and Elf combine to create something even finer. During my stay, I was privileged to behold a performance by a famed Half-Elven dance instructor and her human apprentices. I have not been so close to weeping since the death of my last relative, back in Mordentshire. As you well know...

The Realm

Political power officially sits solely with Queen Rosa Sunderwood. The Queen took the throne five years ago, after the untimely death of her late mother, and she has proven an energetic and caring monarch.
In reality, the Queen's command would be so much wasted air if not for a benevolent relationship between her and the heads of the various noble families that hold control over major trades and other vital operations of the domain. It is fortunate that Queen Rosa has proven to be an even finer diplomat than her mother, managing to smooth out difficulties between old enemies, maintaining positive relations with the other civilized lands surrounding Lilliend and showing the hardness of her fist to those savage lands which covet its resources and people.
Power aong the noble houses flows not only from the Queen's favour and the achievements of one's ancestors over other houses, but also from control over the aforementioned resources; some noble families control woodcutting-firms, other vie over monopoly over the fishing, yet more seek wealth in mining, crafts, shipping and other operations. The balance between the noble families flows and shifts not in accordance with daggers in the night and poisonous rumours, but with demonstrable wealth. Noble houses that have amassed riches spend them on public works, making the improvement of the commoners' lot an opportunity to showcase their opulence and also a challenge to all rivals to match or even surpass them.

In contrast, the churches of Artemis and Athena exert relatively little power over society. Athena's worship is strongest not in the cities, but in the nation's boarding and finishing schools, where young women go to receive an education that will enable them to better themselves and improve the standing of their families. Many of the goddess' priestesses having positions of power on the boards of these schools, or indeed perform the role of principal, but only a handful of such priestesses try to speak for their goddess in the cities.
The worship of Artemis is seen as an outlet for energy that can not be channelled to more socially acceptable endeavours. Every year on the first day of spring, the priestesses of Artemis leave their forest shrines and pass through every town and city, sweeping up in their wake any woman or girl capable of firing a bow and willing to join them for the hunt. These hunts typically last anywhere between a week and a month, and are known to be strenuous and potentially lethal experiences. It is rare nowadays for the hunts to return with fresh meat, but killing an animal is apparently not mandatory; surviving in conjunction with one's sisters is.

Dread Possibility: The Hunt of Actaeon

Furtive whispers and guilty journal entries suggest that the annual hunts have a darker aspect than is commonly acknowledged. In the absence of big game, the Clerics of Artemis sometimes purchase a prize animal for the hunt - or they purchase men. Regardless whether these men are slaves sold by foreign lands, prisoners of war given to the faithful of Artemis by the army or husbands who have incurred the fatal wrath of their wives does not matter. What does matter is that the victim is stripped bare, has a set of antlers lashed to his head with barbed threads and is given a fifteen minute head start before the Hunt begins. If the prey is able to survive until dawn, he may be released. Or he may receive a merciful death. Those who fail to escape are torn apart by the frenzied huntresses...

Lilliend sells its resources abroad as much as possible, using the proceeds to acquire goods and services that the land can no longer provide due to a lack of, no pun intended, manpower. While the Sunderwood line has done its best to keep the nation alive and maintain its populace, the fact is that extinction continues to be a very real threat.

I mentioned before that the Plague of Ares lies not in the past, but continues to plague Lilliend into the present. I witnessed how very true this is after I had departed Blümhage for Ostgard and was waiting for my travel-papers to be finalized. To pass the time, I took to walking around the city, and I came upon a house where men and women both were gathered outside. One of them, a tall young man with a blonde mustache, had the strangest expression on his face; mixed eagerness and despair.
When I asked him what was wrong, he explained that his wife was giving birth inside and was expecting their second child. He denied being unhappy to become a father and assured me that he and his wife had already conceived a child before, a little boy who was the light in his eyes, but that he feared his wife would now give birth to a baby girl. He took pains to make sure no one was listening to us before he whispered into my ear: 'Men die here as soon as they have a daughter!'
I took this to be a rather odd suspicion at first, but when I returned the next day it was not to a feast for the newborn girl, but to see a funeral procession carry the same young man I had met the day before out of his home in a wooden casket. His body was bloated and had burst from the inner pressure of his blood, surging to get out of him. His wife stood watching the procession, weeping uncontrollably, but keeping a firm hold on the hand of her two year old son and cradling in her other arm her newborn baby girl...

Sites of Interest

The events surrounding the young man had shocked me; a fact which my kindly hostesses had picked up on. I have not yet mentioned the Karnblume family; they are a family of lesser nobility, with interests in the wood-carving trade as it is performed in Ostgard. They were kind enough to take me along and nursed me to health in the safety of Blümhage, and thereafter took me along to Ostgard, based on my cover story that I was a writer of travelogues.
Matron Karnblume, the grandmother who rules her house with a gentle hand and a sly wit, was very excited to hear about the lands of the Core, and we spent many an evening in conversation on the possibility of establishing trade between Lilliend and such lands as Dementlieu. I do believe the Matron was hoping to establish a trade monopoly before my untimely departure...
Having noticed my sudden disquiet with Lilliend and perhaps hoping to save their nation's standing in my 'travelogue', the Karnblume sisters gave me special permission to attend the installation of one of their younger daughters in one of the land's famous boarding schools. (It is worth noting that young men are never sent to such institutions and are wholly educated at home; only the women are sent away to learn.) Disaster struck on the way to the Voldergaard Boarding School, which sits at half a day's coach-ride from Ostgard on a peak that even wild goats would have avoided, had there been any alive in the domain. We managed to reach the school before the nocturnal rains broke loose, but I had almost preferred to take my chances in the wilderness over going inside; there was a dark aura about the place, one I did not care for at all.

You may await my next entry to have my findings on the domain's dread lord -- as well as the explanation for my disquiet.

Intriguing.... very well-thought-out domain. I look forward to seeing the darklord and hopefully some explanation of the plague tied to her (I assume "her", but maybe "him"?)

Camille is a her. And I've dropped a few hints.

Rock wrote:Camille is a her. And I've dropped a few hints.

Ah... missed that you had her named in the stat box. I was just basing my guess on the domain description.

Hey, it could have gone several ways just based on the domain's description so far. No worries. ^_^

I like it...
What are the Ogiers? Did you want to spell "Ogres" perhaps?

Nope, the spelling is correct.
This is going to be a cluster if I manage to pull it off, and one of the domains is based on the Wheel of Time series by the late, great Robert Jordan.

THOSE Ogier Then I was right.

Well, Ogiers are few. A steading had a couple hundred Ogiers. 1000 ogiers is actually a sizeable population. Except if the nearby domain is from the Seanchan empire.

*smiles*

Lilliend

Second entry.

Thank you for your patience, my Master. I think I actually got an hour of sleep before your voice was pounding in my head!

As per your standing instructions, I have waited to write the next section of my report on the domain of Lilliend until I was more-or-less safely across its borders. I will include in this section my findings with regards to the land's dread lord, as well as the information you desired with an eye to possible conquest of the land.

As I last mentioned in the first entry of this report, my kindly hostesses of the Karnblume family had taken me along on their trip to install a young member of the family at the prestigious Voldergaard boarding school. Our coach suffered a mishap on the way, obliging us to walk the remaining distance. We just barely managed to get inside before the nocturnal rains erupted.

Here is your first note with regards to invasion: it always rains at night. If it is too cold for rain, it snows. If it is the wrong season for rain, then the wind blows all night. Any invading force would need to bring the means to construct shelters or be prepared for miserable nights and loss of sleep and health.

Prestigious the Voldergaard boarding school may be, but I found it nothing to look at. The building stands atop a mountain peak so bare and forbidding that its physical aspect almost overshadowed its ethereal; there was a miasma clinging to its walls, a disquieting, even disgusting cloud that never seemed to lift. The warm reception my hostesses and I received alleviated some of my sense of foreboding, especially as the ethereal taint did not appear to be represented inside the school's walls.
After a surprisingly sumptuous feast - a regular occurrence, as I was assured by one of the school's teachers, a Miss Hüteknopf. Certainly the young women who thronged into the dining room looked well-fed and healthy, even if their school uniforms were stark and grey. Ms. Huteknopf explained that this was deliberate, as Lilliend's boarding schools do not allow for distractions from what is essential; the development of the self and good bonds with others. These are the two support beams upon which the house of life is built, or so I was assured by her.
After the feast there was a stern ceremony, wherein the Karnblume daughter was formally inducted into the ranks of the Vordegaard boarding school's pupils, sworn to give her best efforts in all ways and to reject all distractions and temptations. The gathered students applauded, some clearly with more enthusiasm than others, and the young girl was taken away to be put into a uniform and assigned a dormitory.
I was a bit miffed when I learned that guests were also expected to sleep in the student dormitories; only teachers and staff were afforded private rooms due to space restrictions, or so claimed Ms. Hüteknopf, who chattered at me all throughout dinner - when she was not asking leading questions with a rather forced air of casualness. You need not be worried, my Master; I maintained my cover throughout the dinner. Even the mandatory nocturnal ablutions - a sluicing-down with wretchedly cold water in a bathroom occupied by dozens of women at the same time - did nothing to loosen my tongue, nor did the miserable conditions of the dormitory. A cheerless, echoing hall of grey stone with row upon row of iron bedframes, upon which lay understuffed mattresses and far too few blankets.
I was taken aback when one of the girls in my dormitory, a raven-eyed beauty named Violetta, offered to sleep next to me so we could share warmth. However, I soon noticed this was the norm; over half the students crawled into bed with each other, sharing their blankets and body heat, presumably purely out of the need to survive the sub-par conditions. So I accepted.
The experience was not exactly comfortable for me, but I suppose it was better than it might have been, if not for one thing: I suffered nightmares during my first night. In my dreams, some misbegotten beast, a large feline that stank of rotting cadavers and brimstone, stalked through the dormitory hall and circled my bed several times before it slunk back into the shadows.
I felt less than refreshed when I awoke, and I was eager to return to Ostgard. Regrettably, it seemed that I had 'slept in' - according to the teaching staff, and this despite the fact that the sun was barely a sliver on the horizon! - and the Karnblume representatives had departed hours earlier, leaving a letter that promised they would send a coach for me as soon as they were able. The teachers assured me that even if a Karnblume coach would not be forthcoming, supply trains attended their school once every month, and I would not have any trouble getting a lift back to the city. As long as I was to be a guest, they offered me the full run of the school, with the sole exception of the teachers' quarters and the old cellars, which were in a state of disrepair and might be dangerous to my health.

Mindful of your instructions, I have done my best to determine the attitude towards Magic in Lilliend. During my travels in the cities, I asked some cautious questions and performed divinations when I could not avoid doing so, but I never encountered anything substantial. The use of priestly magic is accepted in the cities and towns, even welcomed for its power to heal and protect, but it is hardly common since most of the Clerics are either lurking in the wilderness or holed up in boarding schools and finishing schools. Arcane magic is virtually unknown in the cities and seen more as the fanciful stuff of fairytales than as a powerful reality, and I have discovered why.
During my stay at the Voldegaard boarding school, I took some time to investigate its magnificent library and found a wealth of old books, whole shelves of which dealt with the subject of arcane magic. The librarian caught me reading one such tome and marvelled at the fact that I was capable of reading 'the old language', as she identified the Draconic the book was written in.
You are probably laughing yourself sick at the thought that these people have actually lost the capacity to read this treasure trove of books on the arcane, my Master, but I must caution you: I researched as many of these old books as I dared, and unless someone consistently put the wrong publication date in each and every book, the age of the bindings and paper do not match the age of the books' contents. Barring some grand plot of chicanery, someone has taken the time and effort to regularly copy the contents of each book so as to preserve their contents. As we both know, even an analphabetic may do such with mundane texts, but books of power would be ruined by such an act.
Someone in this domain - perhaps a secret cabal of someones - is skilled enough with the art arcane to preserve this treasure trove of lore, and yet leaves it available for any slip of a girl with the linguistic skill to decipher the texts and the natural intelligence to comprehend them. I shudder to think at the number of girls that must have been rendered blind, insane or dead when they turned out to have only the linguistic skill and not the kind of mind that can absorb arcane spells. Likewise, I shudder at the thought of how much power a single master or even a mystery cabal would have to possess, to leave such priceless books lying around on the off chance that the right person might stumble upon them!

As I appeared to be stuck in the Voldergaard boarding school for the long haul, I made a study of its teaching facilities. As I have already mentioned in my sidenote on Magic, I found the library to be excellent, and the librarian was kind enough to give me access to some high-quality parchment and inks so I might copy some of the 'philosophical musings of the ancients' from the tomes most interesting to you.
I trust that the spells I copied will have reached you along with my finished report, and that they interest you as much as they did me.
I have also added a few minor incantations to my own books, but that is not the most important thing I did. Having found that the school's reputation for excellence in all areas of education was well-deserved, I managed to filch some choice reagents and squirrelled them away in the very cellars I was warned about. Despite the teachers' warnings, I found the cellars to be in decent repair, and their labyrinthine passages offered me ample choice in the construction of a little lair, where I set some reagents to brewing for my own convenience - again, in accordance with your standing orders. As I wound up spending several days at the school, I managed to brew a nice little supply of quintessence - a fact which has actually saved my life.

While my time in the library and my little spider-hole were well-spent and the food continued to be excellent, the sleeping arrangements remained dismal and the sharing of body heat a constant obligation to get any sleep at all. I regret to say that my nightmares of being stalked by a feline beast did not grow less severe with the passing days. Rather, they grew worse and more graphic; at their high point, I dreamt that the filthy creature was standing up against the bed, lowering itself across me so it could place its muzzle on the chest of my neighbour, Violetta.
On the seventh day since my arrival, creams tore through my dreams, and I was rudely shaken awake by other girls in the dormitory. My - completely platonic! - bedmate lay still and pale at my side, her breath shallow and her face sunken. I had noticed her looking increasingly wan and pale over the previous days, but had dismissed the matter as the effect of a cold or a bout of influenza; both very likely ailments for a young girl forced to sleep in these cold and drafty dormitories!
I applied what limited medical skills I possess and referred to a book of medical instruction I had the forsight to bring from the Core. Finding Violetta's symptoms to be indicative of sudden anemia, I had a terrible suspicion and ordered the other girls to help me strip her and turn her over when necessary. Upon her breast, we found puncture marks, their edges red and swollen, but otherwise bloodless.
Having been around enough of this fetid world to recognize the markings of a vampire bite, I did what I could. I rinsed the wounds out with first alcohol, then holy water and finally quintessence. I then cast the strongest protective spell I had in my repertoire and bade as many of the girls to pile inside as could fit. We spent a sleepless night, dozing in shifts and fits while those awake kept an eye out for the undead monstrosity's return. When dawn came, we carried Violetta to the infirmary, where the school's nurses reacted with badly-hidden shock at my claims and the evidence I showed them, but acted with alacrity and skill.
Violetta soon regained consciousness and some of her colour, as the nurses presented her with a nourishing meal rich in iron. My insistence that her meal should be generously flavoured with garlic - that all the meals should be treated thus! - was met with disaster. A nurse sent to collect some garlic from the kitchens came running back with the news that the whole supply of garlic had spoiled overnight!
At this juncture, we were joined by Ms. Hüteknopf, who demanded to know the reason why the dormitories were now in a complete uproar. (Clearly the girls from my own dormitory had been blabbing.) The teacher was displeased at the evidence presented to her, not to mention the 'archaic' procedure I had followed in treating Violetta, rather than sending for the nurses at once, but could not argue with the results. The headmistress also put in an appearance in the infirmary and asked some piercing questions of young Violetta, who seemed very impressed by all the attention she was getting.

The headmistress confirmed to her own satisfaction that Violetta had not invited the undead predator into the Voldegaard boarding school, and also that she had not been attacked before she first came to the school. She confided in me that she had had her suspicions before now, because girls had been taken ill with symptoms of anemia before - but never as severe as the case of Violetta. A quick investigation showed that only the children in one dorm had been attacked - the drafty one where I had been bedded down. (I did wonder at that.)
The headmistress gathered up some of the more robust members of her staff and asked if I would assist them in looking for the way the vampire had made its way into the dormitory. I agreed to help, but warned the teachers that vampires can, according to the lore, turn to mist and consequently could travel through even the smallest crack in the brickwork. This did nothing to dissuade my hostesses, who swept me up in their impromptu party and rushed back to the dormitory.
To my surprise, the teachers found an actual secret door, cleverly hidden in the walls of the dormitory. Behind the door, there was a passage leading upward. I was ushered through the door, there was a sudden explosion of pain in the back of my head, and I fell into featureless darkness.

I awoke in darkness and had to grope my way around. All my belongings were with me, oddly enough, and it was not difficult to figure out where I was; the teachers had left me in the upward-leading passage, sprawled on the stairway.
A sacrifice for the vampire.
I tried to find a way to open the secret door, but to no avail. When I pounded my fist against it, it sounded like a solid wall; I suspected the teachers had taken the time to brick it up from the outside. Finally, I took up my cane and tiptoed up the stairs as quietly as I could, hoping with all my heart that night had not yet fallen and that there would be some other exit from the vampire's lair. Preferably one I could get out through without breaking any major bones and from which I could get to the road...!
I was not in darkness for long. At the top of the stairs, I was greeted by a corridor and a light gloom. At the end of the corridor, there was an unlocked door, behind which lay a suite of brightly and lavishly appointed lit rooms. The colour red predominated in the carpets, the upholstery - but not in the pale maiden who lay sleeping on one of the couches.
It was, of course, young Violetta, now dressed in a pale chemise. There was a caraffe of something red standing at hand for her consumption as soon as she awoke. It looked like wine, but I did not feel like risking it and applied smelling salts to the girl's nostrils. To say Violetta was upset at the turn events had taken would be an understatement. She dimly recalled getting sleepy after eating a sweetcake one of the nurses had given her, and now she felt afraid for her life and horribly betrayed by the people who had been in charge of her well-being and safety. She was happy enough to fall in with me, on the off-chance that I might actually find us a way out.

Investigating the suite was an exercize in patience and self-control. Patience because I had to go over a lot of walls and heavy furniture on the search for a way out. Self-control because the place gave me the creeps and I wanted to start smashing things. The artwork on the walls was... lurid. There were smells in the air that made my hair stand on end. Curls and wisps of the miasma I had noticed when walking up to the boarding school would suddenly appear in the corner of my eye, then vanish. Violetta tried, bless her heart, but she was not much help. Not due to clumsiness, but more inexperience. Only one cure for that...
Finally, I found another secret door, one which led to more austere chambers. Bare walls of grey stone, sensible wool carpets, a tidy writing-desk... A big, open window with a spectacular view of the chasm the boarding school overlooked.
"Go back into the other room and start ripping up cloth you can tear," I ordered Violetta. "We want long, broad strips. I'll look in here."
While Violetta busied herself in the other room, I went through the desk, looking for... I don't know, anything. What I found was a young girl's journal, part poetry, part personal observations. I skimmed through it - certain words caught my eye and I felt nauseated. I read more carefully and I felt horrified.

"Put that BACK!"

The voice sounded familiar, yet not. Turning, I saw Ms. Hüteknopf, her hair down and her face furious. She was dragging Violetta's limp form by one arm, but she dropped her to focus on me.
'Lucky me.'
"Put it back!" the teacher (?) hissed at me again, saliva visibly spraying from her lips as she took a gliding step towards me. "It's not yours, it's mine!" There was a blood-stained dagger in one of her hands and a trail of blood where she had dragged poor, young Violetta.
I raised my cane and groped for a bottle of holy water in my pocket. The bottle was there, but it was empty. I was still staring stupidly at the empty glass when Ms. Hüteknopf hurtled towards me, screaming at the top of her lungs. I got in a lucky swing and rapped her on the knuckles; the dagger clattered to the ground and Ms. Hüteknopf staggered backwards, crying out as she clutches her wounded hand.
"What kind of vampire are you?" I asked, flabbergasted at my good luck - and moving, circling around her. If I could only get to the open door, maybe I could find where she had gotten in, then get out...
"You've ruined everything!" she screamed at me, eyes glowing with insanity. "Everything! She was going to be the one, the perfect one, but you had her destroying my things! I'll kill you!"
She plucked a plain ring from one of her fingers, yowled at the pain - and then her face became very calm. Very pale. When she snarled at me again, her eye-teeth were fangs, and her eyes glowed like pools of Hellfire. I got a very good look at those eyes, because she was suddenly in my face, one hand wrenching at my cane while the other tore open my collar.
She staggered back and cried out again, black smoke rising from her skin at the sight that greeted her. It was my good fortune that the teachers had failed to recognize my crucifix for what it was. They had also failed to identify my quintessence; I hurled a flaskful of the stuff at the vampire's head and she screamed again, agonized, injured.
Down, as they say, but not out. I started to run for the door, and she snapped up her head and one hand. An incantation fell from her lips like spilled blood, and I was hit by a blast of force. I went flying, through the room - and out the window. As I fell down, down and down, the distant river rising to meet me, I reflected on the wages of heroics, but also anticipated release from my bondage.

Hope springs forever, my Master.

No matter how unjustified.

I woke up in the forest. I was moving, though not under my own power; someone - something? - was carrying me. Something big. It was pissing down and the rain and the darkness made it impossible for me to see anything clearly. All I knew was that I was in some pain, and yet not as much pain as I should have been, and I was moving very quickly. And no one was sucking on my neck, so all in all I considered it a net positive.
Abruptly, the rain ended and there was a break in the clouds. I got my first good look at the person carrying me by the light of the full moon, and I struggled a little.
"You must be calm," the moustachioed giant whispered, his voice reverberating in my chest. "More than calm, you must be still and quiet. We might just barely make it."
He charged ahead, bursting out from between the trees. I heard distant armcries and the Twang! of bowstrings. The rumbling giant grunted with pain and I saw feathers sprout from his shoulder, but he did not stop. He charged headlong down a steep slope, dodging and ducking to avoid trees and boulders. Behind us, I heard the armcry again and more arrows zipped overhead, but nothing impeded our progress.

Here is more information for you with regards to invasion, my Master. While there are always ready troops at the eastern border of Lilliend, the western border, the one that backs into the Mists, appears to be wholly unguarded. I say 'appears' because it is entirely possible that the dread lord of the land keeps watch by some means; I was never certain whether she was aware of my arrival and arranged for me to be put within her reach or not.
Although the eastern border is guarded, my own escape neatly illustrated that a small enough force can either sneak past or flee past, provided it moves quickly enough. You may say that moving troops out of land you wish to conquer is useless to you, but I advise you to review my findings on the domain's dread lord before dismissing this information. In the end, you may well have to settle for guerrilla-style - beg pardon, for hit-and-run tactics. You see, I take measures against your ignorance, my Master.

The Dread Lord

I write this final section of the report from the dubious safety of a small cave, far down the slopes leading up to the inhabited part of Lilliend. I have no idea how I will ever find my way back and suspect that I may never do so - not with any great expectation of survival, anyway. I shall have to brave the Mists elsewhere.
Lakon - the name of the good Samaritan who saw me fall, fished my broken body out of the river, poured quintessence into my injuries until they righted themselves and carried me out of Lilliend before its true master could gather herself - tells me that the Lilliend troops never come this far down the slopes, but there are other dangers. Let me write this as fast as I can and send it off, lest you have to suffer from thwarted curiosity. I'm just sure that's worse than the pain from falling into a white-water river from a great height and being dragged downstream.

Camille Churnstone
Once, there was a family known as Churnstone. This family belonged to the lesser nobility of Lilliend, and it drew its wealth from the great marble quarries on its territory. In one generation, the family was blessed with twin daughters: Camille and Amaranth.
Amaranth was vivacious and outgoing, a people-person, levelheaded but joyful.
Camille, on the other hand, was lazy and listless. She cared about sleep, writing gloomy poetry for her own entertainment, and only one person besides herself: her beautiful sister.
Camille's parents were very surprised when their withdrawn poet displayed a new fire, right after Amaranth's engagement to a handsome young man from a family of the high nobility was announced. Camille screamed, she cried herself sick, she whined, she nagged, she argued endlessly, all to the effect that the engagement should be cancelled and Amaranth should stay at her side. None of it succeeded, and Camille's heart was broken when Amaranth firmly told her that the engagement was her will and she would brook no further interference from her sister.
Camille had always possessed sorcerous ability, but she had simply accepted it and let it lie fallow. Now did she strain her powers to the utmost in a last-ditch attempt to turn the tide. She spent her not inconsiderable allowance on arcane texts, hoping for new magic and wisdom - and in one of these tomes, she found horror and abomination in te form of the Rite of Living Death.
The ritual promised her immortality, unaging beauty, great power - and the ability to claim anyone she wanted for her lover. All she would have to do was ritually end her mortal life and lie in state for three days. Camille gathered the components she needed and slit her wrists in the family chapel at the right time. Life flowed out of her, death flowed in... and was driven out in turn when undeath replaced it.
But Camille had miscalculated; her body was found and her grieving relatives laid her not in state, but sealed her remains in an airtight tomb to hide the shame of her suicide and prevent it from influencing the upcoming nuptials. Camille lay dormant, her undead body hibernating until it once again felt the touch of living air. The day came - a good century after the fateful day of her suicide, when the distant descendants of her sister were forced to leave their family home due to debt and the family crypt was being opened so its occupants could be moved to humbler resting-places.
Camille drained the workers who had disturbed her, but she soon found herself vomiting up the blood of men; it was not men she wished to feast upon. When their bodies stirred as her vampiric thralls, she put them down herself, rather than suffer their company for eternity.
After this first battle, Camille investigated what had happened during her dormancy. The sure knowledge that her beloved Amaranth was dead drove her nearly to insanity, but she held out a twisted hope; from the workers' paperwork, she learned that Amaranth had descendants. Surely one of them could be trained to replace her beloved sister.

Camille's influence on her family passed down the generations of the Churnstones.
From time to time, she would kidnap promising candidates, drag them to her lair in the family crypt and try to train them to be perfect replicas of her Amaranth. When they failed, either in life or as vampires, she would spitefully murder them.
She would grudgingly allow Churnstone women to marry, but murdered their husbands as soon as they were pregnant, obliging them to return to their birth family. When these troubled mothers gave birth to daughters, Camille rejoiced. When they gave birth to sons, Camille abducted them and threw them to their death in Lilliend's deep ravines. Always, she haunted her family, fed on them, waited for her new lover and punished those who failed to present the candidate.
Finally, Camille's depredations had left her with only one living relative: Melusinde Churnstone, a virtuous young woman who managed to find a man brave enough to look past the terifying stories of ill fortune that haunted the Churnstones and had fallen in love with her. Camille knew, intellectually, that she should let events play out as they would. Emotionally, she latched onto the child growing in Melusinde's womb. Here was her last chance, or so claimed her black heart.
The day of the birth came, and Melusinde and her husband rejoiced in the birth... of their first son.
Camille's madness, never far beneath the surface, erupted. When it finally abated, she lay in the abattoir she had made of her last living relatives' home, and she realized that she had singlehandedly erased every last trace of Amaranth upon the earth.
The blood turned to mist, and mist turned to Mist, which enveloped Camille. When it faded away, she found herself the Darklord of a new Lilliend.

Current Sketch
Camille staves off a descent into full, bestial madness only by a long-term project. She is managing the many boarding schools of the domain, looking for girls who are suitable candidates to replace her beloved Amaranth. In the guise of a number of teachers and even students, she sifts through the wide selection, judging girls by appearance, disposition and behaviour. In the role of tutor or comrade, she can subtly adjust candidates' behaviour to more closely reflect poor, dead Amaranth. Many times now, Camille has believed that she has found a suitable replacement for her lost sister, and has turned the girl into her vampiric companion - only for the resulting slave to disappoint her as its personality changes.
Camille kills most of her failures; only a few have managed to persuade her they are too useful to be killed out of hand, and these stalk the woods of the domain, hunting Elves and Ogier and patrolling the backwoods.
Although Camille continues to care for no one but herself and her idealised lover, she maintains a rigid control over the rulers of the land; through her magic, she controls the weather in the domain, and she is blackmailing the royal line and anyone else who knows about her by threatening to keep away the rains that give life to the crops, animals and people. So long as the authorities continue to send young girls out to the schools where Camille lurks and hunts, she allows the people to survive. If they should ever try to thwart her...

Combat
Camille does not often fight. Her position of power is stable; the one time the rulers tried to thwart her will, she caused a terrible drought that claimed hundreds of lives.
The only thing that usually comes close to Camille fighting is her practice of murdering any man who she is informed has sired a daughter. Camille firmly believes that men have outlived their usefulness once they have provided the domain with a daughter, and she sneaks into their bedrooms at night so she can murder them with magic.
If pressed into actual battle, Camille tends to go berserk and tries to overwhelm enemies with her energy-draining slams and blood-draining bite. She is physically weak for a vampire, however, and her technique is shoddy. As soon as she takes even the slightest injury, she puts as much distance between herself and her opponents as she can, reverting to mist-form or her alternate form as a Hellcat if necessary. Once she has a comfortable distance, she reverts to her own form and starts blasting away with magic. If that does not work, Camille flees without a moment's hesitation or shame - and plots the assassination of her foes at a later date.

Lair
Camille has numerous lairs in the domain's various boarding schools, but her first and most important is located in the ruins of the Churnstone family home. The Churnstone crypt is a murder hole, full of traps that only a sentient fog cloud could navigate without setting it off. Here, Camilly keeps the bodies of those failed lovers who came closest to her ideal, preserved as they were until just after Camille killed them. Every time Camille visits her home, she views each face and burns every detail of her previous failures into her mind - and vows that the next lover will be the one.

Closing the Borders
If Camille wants to close the borders, a thunderstorm erupts over Lilliend. Driving rains obscure all sight, thunder eclipses all hearing and the winds drive those who would escape back into the land without their noticing. Camille rarely uses this power, but knows that she need only use it long enough to fool people into returning to her territory; the authorities know full well what the reason for such storms is, and will make quiet arrangements to have these people captured so Camille can pick them up or murder them at her leisure.

Very cool darklord. So was the plague in false history? Or does Camille's vampirism take the form of bursting blood from inside somehow? (magically calling blood to the surface or something?)

I'm glad you like her! ^_^

The plague was basically a big killing spree right after Lilliend became a Domain of Dread; Camille was working through her rage and despair at having wiped out every living remainder of her sister. As a typical Darklord (Darklady?) she focused her rage outwards, blaming men for being the 'things' that take her loved ones away from her. This has not changed in the intervening years.
I have yet to finish Camille's character build, but she is a CE female human vampire Sorcerer 15 with Avasculate, Control weather, Kiss of the doppelganger and Mimic mortal on her spell list. When killing men after they have 'outlived their usefulness', she likes to use Avasculate at least once, so as to shed their blood. Camille finds the blood of men to be repulsive and so sheds it without getting it anywhere near her body.
Feats I intend to give her include Brew Potion, Brew Greater Potion and Forge Ring.
(The ring she takes off just before she gets dangerous is a ring of Mimic Mortal.)

We talked while we descended down the mountain passes to level ground, Lakon and I.
No, my Master, I did not reveal everything about your great and vainglorious purpose, nor about my mission.
In light of his having saved my life, however, I felt obliged to tell him more of the truth than I had done in Lilliend. I told him I was here to travel these domains and learn all about them that I could, for the benefit of the Core.

Thank you very much, my Master. Reducing me to a quivering heap of pain while I'm descending a mountain is obviously the best way to have me cooperate with your thrice-cursed directives and spells. Fortunately, Lakon was close at hand and I am thus able to continue traveling, rather than being forced to crawl into a cave to heal or die as fickle chance would dictate.

Lakon has told me some few things about himself and his people, the Ogier. I got the distinct impresson that - much like myself - he was holding some items back, but I believe he has told me everything that would interest you.
There is a relatively small population of Ogier in Lilliend, which keeps carefully separate from humans and interact most with the Elves, with whom they share the habitat of the deep woods. The Ogier are not from Lilliend, having travelled there from lands to the south as soon as opportunity allowed. When I asked why this was, Lakon became evasive in an embarrassed sort of way; he knows he is bad at lying and ashamed of making the attempt.
No, my Master, intimidation would not be the best way to get information out of a representative of a species that grows in size to easily match a common Ogre.
As I said, the Ogier in Lilliend keep separate from the humans, who they describe as 'hasty' and 'rash', but they watch them from hiding. Lakon said outright that the Ogier of Lilliend do not trust its human population due to the obvious involvement between its schooling system and the domain's dread lord. I have to admit, a species which offers up its own young to the depredations of a vampire would not inspire a great deal of trust in me, either. And then I must realize I myself am connected to such a species...
Lakon himself appears to be something of an oddity among his people in that he dared go much closer to humans than the others, who prefer to retire to secret areas in the forest. There is something significant to those areas which Lakon would not disclose. He let slip something about 'singing to the trees', then pretended he had said nothing, all while glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps his people have a Druidic tradition>
The Ogier have an 'understanding' with the Elves and some few Half-Elves who favour their Elvish heritage. Basically they do not bother one another, do not intrude on one another's homes and favoured paths, and sometimes exchange goods and services they can not provide for themselves. Apart from this, they do not interact unless it is to alert one another of an intention to expand territory - a great rarity according to Lakon, who said he had only read about it happening in his people's history books.

By the time we reached the foot of the mountains, I had mostly recovered thanks to regular infusions of quintessence and a few other curatives. Lakon was very impressed with these tonics and offered me the use of his services as a guide and bodyguard if I would instruct him in the method of their creation.
Yes, my Master, I remember your directives on the subject of sharing secret knowledge with those who may end up becoming our enemies. I can hardly forget.
I politely refused, citing the hermetic nature of Alchemical Philosophy to Lakon and offering him my apologies. He was saddened, but then suggested I might agree to brew a supply of quintessence for his people in return for his services over the coming year. That much, my Master, you had not forbidden and so I agreed.

In his new function as my guide, Lakon warned me about the lands that lay directly ahead.
Thick shelves of bedrock lie fairly close to the surface here, and thus prevent the water from the Birgesblot and the Wittwentraen rivers from draining into the earth.
To be blunt, the land around Lilliend's border is a verdant swamp, claimed by none yet travelled by many; merchants from Lilliend pass through here to spread their missives offering marriage and land grants to the able-bodied men of the land and peddle their wares, and merchants from elsewhere follow the trail back, bringing with them other wares and the hopeful, the horny, and the stupid in search of guaranteed wives.
There is a meandering road which cuts through the swamp, the result of years of hard work and cartloads of hard-packed dirt and stone, and that is relatively safe to travel - by day.
At night, so Lakon informed me, the swamp vomits forth its denizens. Will-o'-the-wisps are a common menace, as are giant snakes and leeches. These latter menaces become dormant during the winter months, but the will-o'-the-wisps become twice as aggressive in their absence. Lakon and I dutifully waited for dawn in a cave well above ground level, with a fine view of the road.
I noticed some flickering lights lower down, and Lakon admitted there were other caves we might have gone to, some of them inhabited the year round by ambitious folk who run the caves as inns of a sort for the merchants. When I asked him why we did not go to one of those, Lakon's bushy eyebrows lowered, as did his already deep voice. He informed me that sometimes, guests in those caves did not walk out on their own two legs, and a dish called long pork was often on offer immediately after their disappearance.
Enough said, indeed...

We made the crossing by day, hurrying as fast as Lakon's long legs could carry us. I was mobile, but even at full health I would not have been able to match Lakon's long-legged stride. Besides, I was needed to keep lookout and be ready to attack anything that tried to rise from the swamp; the days are supposedly safe, but we both felt nervous for some reason.
In the end, we did leave the swamp without having been accosted by man or beast, and we both breathed a sigh of relief. I regretted breathing too deeply soon enough; I caught a whiff of gunpowder and brimstone that set me coughing - and then the stench was just gone, leaving me confused as to where it went.
A fitting welcome to the land of Vieuxlion, indeed...

Vieuxlyons

'Mankind united with infinitely greater purpose in pursuit of war than he ever did in pursuit of peace.'
- Equilibrium.

Vieuxlyons at a glance.

Cultural level: Renaissance (9)
Ecology: Full
Climate / Terrain: Temperate forests, plains and hills
Year of formation: 742 BC
Population: 500
Races: Humans 100% (various others in transit)
Languages: English, French, German
Religions: Catholicism
Government: Military tyranny
Ruler: General Peter Damwalz
Darklord: Henri Arvous

Lakon instructed me in the correct way to enter Vieuxlyons; find the road and then follow it, no matter what might tempt me away from the path. In truth, I saw little to tempt me. The road - a meandering path of worn bricks - leads through a blasted landscape of mud and scorched earth. The place seemed wholly uninteresting at first, but I was surprised to see the wreckage of ta -- war machines sticking out of the ground at irregular distances.
When I carefully asked Lakon about these, he confessed that his people knew little about these, save that they had once been used by the people of Vieuxlyons before they lost the means to make them move. He showed little concern for these items, but again cautioned me against leaving the path. He implied that we were already being watched, and that those who left the road would suffer... hardship.
Mindful of his warning, I settled for craning my neck to get a better look at the debris. I noticed certain emblems that made my blood run cold. This sensation only grew worse when we approached the inhabited part of Vieuxlyons and the border station appeared in the distance. The uniforms of the soldiers standing guard, the flag rippling in the wind above the border station, they all sparked memories I had buried long ago, memories of home - but not of my time.
For a moment, I thought I had walked into a movie about the second World War.
Lakon was impressed that I managed to address the soldiers in their own language and we were waved through with minimal delay, but I felt cold and sick - feelings I did my best to hide from the soldiers, my Master. Once we have achieved a measure of safety, I will explain further.

Landscape
Vieuxlyons is an island within its own borders. A circle of blasted and poisoned earth surrounds a rough oblong of slightly raised ground. At its northern edge, the plateau is at its lowest, yet also at its most fertile. Farms and vineyards dominate here, and the locals cultivate every inch of ground that will serve them with great fervor.
To the south, the land gradually rises higher, shaping itself into hills. A thinly-spaced forest rises here, its roots burrowing deep to draw water out from under layers of shattered bedrock, which makes crop-farming too difficult to be profitable. The locals still manage to benefit from this landscape, as they use it as a source of easy grazing for their herds of sheep and goats. In times gone by, the local nobility raised their grand château here, so they might benefit from the singular view the elevation commanded.
In the centre, the domain is urbanized. Here stands the village for which the whole land is named; Vieuxlyons. There are several roads which criss-cross the domain that originate here, allowing for fast travel towards the château, the vineyards, the farms, and now also the border checkpoints.
The domain Vieuxlyons does not have any great rivers. Instead, water must be drawn up from the land's wells and caught in barrels after the seasonal rains.

History
Origins
Vieuxlyons' people claim that their origins lie not in the Land of Mists, but on a world they call 'Earth'.
No doubt you recall Earth, my Master. We have spoken of it often enough.
To be precise, the locals claim that their origins lie in two distinct countries: France and Germany. At the time that Vieuxlyons' time as a domain in the Land of Mists begins, the locals counted the year 1941 A.D., and their nation had been in the grip of a foreign power known as national-socialists - these originating from the aforementioned Germany.
The occupation was characterized by shortages for the locals, the theft of national treasures by the occupying forces, and hideous acts of discrimination against specific groups of people throughout France, with Vieuxlyons being no exception. Resistance movements sprang up like weeds, which should also come as no surprise.
For all that it was a minor village out in the middle of nowhere, Vieuxlyons was a hotbed for rebel activity. Despite its size and minor role in the agricultural structure of the whole, it was located near a railway - yes, my Master, I will explain this later - and offered resistance groups ample opportunity to sabotage the transport of troops, weapons, equipment and other goods, after which they could hide in the forest. The occupying national-socialist troops were growing more cruel in their pursuit of the rebel forces by the day, and their secret service became ever more desperate to find genuine rebels or at least a likely scapegoat in order to appease their masters back home.
In the end, the innkeeper of Vieuxlyons' only inn that was managing to function was accused of being involved with the theft of priceless paintings from the grand château, an act connected to at least two groups of rebels. The innkeeper was dragged out into the village square by national-socialist troops and shot before the gathered villagers.
At that moment, the elders of Vieuxlyons still recall, the earth shook and Mists rolled over the village, obscuring the sky. When they lifted, Vieuxlyons had been completely divorced from the France its people knew. Instead, they found their nation bordering strange lands with primitive inhabitants and alien customs.

Recent history
The occupying troops flew into a panic and launched several attacks at foreign communities that originally lay close to Vieuxlyons' borders. This caused retaliation from the armies of Vieuxlyons' new neighbours, all of which ended with the Battle of Four Armies. The national-socialists' machines of war caused enough damage to the hosts of these aggressive neighbours to make them retreat and reconsider, and eventually diplomacy won out, with the occupying forces agreeing not to expand their holdings so long as no one tried to invade.
This was a masterful bluff on the part of the national-socialists, as they had run out of fuel for their machines of war, almost all of which had been damaged beyond repair in the great battle. Despite this fact, Vieuxlyons has managed to struggle on, serving as a border station between its neighbours.
The occupying forces continue to be the occupying forces; although some interbreeding has taken place between the armed forces and the farming community native to the village, there has been no intermarriage and no sign that the village curfew is to be ended, or that the farmers will ever be allowed to migrate from their little village to one of the larger domains so tantalizingly close. If anything, the occupying forces have tightened their grip - to my mind, this is a sign of desperation, as they wish to retain every link they can to the 'normal' world they have been torn from.

Populace
Vieuxlyons' military rulers allow people of many kinds to pass through their domain, but only in small, manageable numbers, and they maintain a close watch on them at all times.
Only humans are allowed to live in the domain permanently, and only humans who were in the domain when it formed or who are descended from them. There has been a small amount of interbreeding as travellers had dalliances with local girls, but the offspring of such unions are accepted as an unfortunate necessity to keep the domain's blood strong.
Native humans can be distinguished in two strains: The occupants tend to display pale skin, blue eyes and pale hair. The farmers show a wider range of hair- and eye-colours, and are generally more rugged in appearance due to the need to work long hours in order to keep the domain alive.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

I must cut this report short, my Master. Curfew fast approaches and it is forbidden to have candles lit after curfew. My hosts at the inn have warned me that failure to comply with this ordinance is punishable by firing squad. Please curb your curiosity until tomorrow...

I like what youd did with frmale vampire DL idea! I hadn't really come up with a lot of details for my campaign so I'm stealing most of yours. Great stuff!