Prianna’s Favorite Recipes from Other Domains: 4 / 25
Dementlieu has always paid me well. It is a land of grand ballrooms and long tables where food is expected to impress before it ever satisfies. I have worked with ingredients there that still feel unreal when I think back on them, sugars heated and formed into shapes I had never seen before, spices traded across the Mists and never tasted again, wines older than some bloodlines. Everything is polished, deliberate, beautiful to the point of distance. I have cooked meals meant to be admired more than eaten, dishes designed to scream of wealth and power to everyone in the room. Dementlieu excels at that kind of spectacle, and I cannot deny the skill it demands.
But the food I love most from there found me after midnight, when my hands were sore and my head was buzzing from a day spent feeding someone else's fantasy. On a quiet corner street, a small bistro was just beginning to close. They had one loaf of pain d'epice left, and a simple spread to go with it. I had not eaten all day. I sat in the cool night air and tore into the bread, spreading that sharp, mustardy paste across its surface. The bread was dense and fragrant, heavy with cinnamon, cloves, and ginger. It was warm and grounding, honest in a way nothing from the ballroom had been. As nobles drifted past in rumpled finery, laughing and unsteady, I ate something that asked nothing of me but to be present. In that moment, Dementlieu felt real. Not the glittering dream it sells, but the quiet truth it hides on its corners, waiting for someone hungry enough to notice.
I have too many ocs but what's one more. This is my character, Celeste Duarte. She lives in Ravenloft's Dementlieu. However instead of dnd were playing with the Candela Obsura system and she's a journalist!
The circle she's a part of surround the death of her late husband Edmund (I havent drawn him yet lol) Celeste doesn't like being covered in blood and tends to just completely change her outfit if it ever happens. She sees them as unlucky because someone got hurt.
Well see what happens in Act 3 lol
I just designed her parents since I'm fleshing her out.
Domain: Dementlieu
Domain Formation: Not specified (707 BC old sources)
Power level:💀💀💀 ⚫⚫
Sources: Van Ricthen’s Guide to Ravenloft (5e)
I wrote of the original Darklord of Dementliue, Dominic d'Honaire last week. In the good doctor’s latest guide, the Domain of Dementlieu has maintained it’s love of decadence masking the truth with virtually every citizen maintaining the lie that they are more than they appear to be. Saidra D’Honaire, the new Darklord, being the grand duchess of delusion.
Saidra grew up on a small farm with her father who claimed he was exiled from his rightful place as a Duke by his younger brother. Saidra threw herself fully into this fancy. She bullied other children into entertaining her, declaring it her right because of her “superior” birth. These children must have been of a timid nature to put of with that nonsense.
Saidra’s father remarried a successful merchant who already had two daughters of her own. This new found family scorned Saidra and her fantasies and treated her like a servant despite the family’s wealth. Saidra’s father must have been absent or dense or both as he did nothing about this.
When a nearby Duke died and when she asked if it was her father’s wicked brother, her father finally told her the truth. He was the Duke’s servant and fled after he was caught trying to steal from him. Saidra was unable to face reality and prayed over her mother’s grave for guidance. What she got was a grandmother type appearing seemingly out of nowhere who granted her jewels and attire so she could attend the masquerade ball for the new Duke’s coronation.
It is never wise to accept magical gifts from unknown individuals. I think all of us Darklords can agree that they rarely give such things for free and typically have a malevolent purpose. Though, from the start, Saidra did not hold much to logic and realism, so it is no surprise that she accepted these gifts without question.
At the ball the glamour that surrounded her captured the Duke’s attentions and Saidra’s original plan of murdering him to claim what was hers was quickly replaced with the idea of marrying him. I’m curious to hear how she planned on murdering him in front of an entire ballroom of people and claiming his title without complaint seeing as she only brought a single blade with her…
None of these vague plans mattered in the end, because at midnight a plague overtook the guests and killed them all. As some do upon their inevitable deaths (trust me, I’ve seen it enough to know), the Duke confessed that the true Duke had no legitimate children and he was actually the son of a common servant who fled the household after an attempted theft. Realizing that this man she had contemplated marrying moments ago was not an actual Duke and was her brother, disgusted Saidra so she killed him with her blade before the plague did.
I would guess that this plague was part of Saidra’s untold deal with the “grandmotherly” figure who granted her “wish” earlier that evening. The plague claimed Saidra as well and when she awoke she was an undead wraith bound to the Domain of Dementlieu.
She is now the Duchess she always dreamed of being, but in her undead condition, cannot enjoy many of the decadence and delicacies that title grants her. To blend in with mortal society, she must wear a mask, which resulted in her hosting a masquerade ball once every 7 days. There she delights in unmasking those she deems unworthy or trying to disguise themselves as being above their alloted station all the while fearing her own exposure.
When not holding her little, pointless parties, Saidra stalks the streets as a wraith cloaked in a crimson shadow. Her people refer to this form of hers as the Red Death.
Saidra is a regular wraith in an elaborate mask who can occasionally cast one power spell (Disintegration) at pretenders. A woman forever clinging to a fantasy when the life on a farm is just as noble if not more so in many cases. The fact that she kills her subjects regularly at her parties without consequence (yet anyway), indicates she has sufficient control over her people. Still, a brave group of individuals could easily confront and expose her and I would wager that none of her subjects would interfere.
Welcome to Port-a-Lucine, the greatest city in the world! A marvellous metropolis of lights and music! Feasts and theatre! Where prosperity and glamour reigns!
None of that is false, but neither is it true. Port-a-Lucine is the capital of Dementlieu and appears to be a gorgeous city full of rich and successful people. Because everyone works hard to maintain that illusion.
Only one noble family truly remains. The rich play at being aristocracy. Those moderately off play at being rich. The poor maintain the look of middle class. And the destitute... well, there are no destitute in Ba Sing Se Port-a-Lucine, because they desperately pretend to be better off... or die.
Those who cannot maintain the illusion of this city may fall prey to the Red Death, a horrible crimson apparition. Its victims are sometimes found drained to a withered husk, but as the effect is comparable to disintegration the victims are often left little more than grey ash.
Port-a-Lucine certainly has an active nightlife, rich theatre tradition, beautiful buildings, and glorious feasts. However, it is all held together with string and fresh paint. Below the surface the city is slowly crumbling. Fine clothing is secretly patched and stitched back together. Feasts are paid for by fasting for days before. Everyone know someone important, even if they don't.
Everyone knows the lie. No one dares speak it unprompted. But a single button falling off a vest could be a disaster. Others could point out your obvious inability to maintain the latest fashion, dropping you down the social ladder and putting you at risk of destruction. A quick wit may save you, "Oh, I have clearly been eating too well at the recent parties, I am bursting out of my vest! Ha ha!"
And yet the anxiety remains.
Dementlieu is imposter syndrome writ large. It is also a land of fairytales and magic, gifts granted by honest fey and smiling devils. Beauteous illusions that let you join the ball and seek your prince, but make sure to leave by midnight. Windfalls of wealth to save you from La Mort Rouge, so you do not question the strings attached.
Bienvenue, travellers, to the greatest city in all the domains!
Freaks & Facades: Session Three - The Misty Morning
Welcome back, my beloved readers and rapscallions. This is the recap of Session Three of Freaks & Facades. Our cast of beloved Freaks has had quite the night. Quite a dark, dark night indeed... Check out the past recaps collected on our Index, to learn what our party of Freaks has done to get to this point, (or find them linked at the bottom below the cut).
The Freaks’ time at the Ravens Loft Inn has come to a close, many questions left burning like the ashes of that mysterious tavern’s hearth. First impressions were made, masks held tight amongst the group of strangers. The Inn’s strange circumstances placed each of them in a bloodstained room during their stay, their futures read by a comatose Vistani seer. When night came they found a curtain of darkness and animated furniture attempt to swallow them up! Many were flung into the darkness unaware; while others struggled to hold the light. One of our Freaks discovered a new face to the Tavern’s keepers, and willingly chose the darkness! What does it all mean?
Warning: this is a horror campaign setting, so bear that in mind before reading. Possible triggers include: bones/bone manipulation, skeletal bodies, transformation body horror etc.
The Freaks are assembled. In the coming morning light they must decide to either stay together and face the unknown, or let their new situation split them apart! Let’s see if they survive this first day together in Ravenloft proper!
*starts projector*
Everyone’s sleep is of nothingness. A terrible blackness swaddling each and every one of them. They are startled awake all at once, several weakened by this unknowing descent through the Elemental Darkness! They are inside a cave, damp with the early morning Mist...
Fenri and Schrödinger each remember the Curtain of Feathers swallowing the inn! But their memories about what befell them all afterwards is unclear and foggy...
Someone notices the weapon Schrödinger has instinctively drawn and alerts the others. A dagger made from his own bones, extruding from his palm! Solange instinctively rolls away, fearing the Lamordian is actually an undead--and collides in the stomach with a stalagmite. Fenri is also a bit startled, as she is a priestess who has faced many undead in the past...
Schrödinger reveals this is his Science, his life’s work: to utilize the body’s skeletal structure beyond simply as a biological framework to build upon.
Channa has no qualms. She has used blood in her elemental magecraft in the past, why not use the body’s elements for something new? Despite their misgivings, Solange and Fenri decide to be open-minded (but keeping an eye on the lordling all the same).
Pryrrish is entirely unaware of this briefly tense situation, too focused on her Tome’s current location to care. Reassuringly, it is still beside her despite this change in scenery... She has no qualms about Schrödinger’s abilities--she isn’t one who can judge easily. She uses her swirling eyes to look about the cave.
Fenri goes outside to pray in the dawn’s gentle light! Solange steps outside as well, keeping the halfling and the rest of the party all within sight. Pryrrish, Channa and Schrödinger examine the cave they woke up in... There’s signs of an unhoused person having slept here recently. The cave is within a small plateau beside a forested country road; the trees and their autumn foliage are quite familiar to those Solange knows, so they may be in Dementlieu still. Perhaps merely a single night has passed since she was lost in the Catacombs?
The cavern’s walls are all painted in extremely old squiggles and symbols, depicting tides of Mist, the jagged mountains between and shadowy wolves skulking the woods.... At the center of the ceiling, between the stalactites, is a vaguely prehistoric image of a gray figure dressed in robes. Holding a shield and a sprig of flowers...
Pryrrish peeks into her Tome, revealing this must be a figure of Ezra, the Guardian in the Mists, the unknown protector goddess of this realm... A god unknown to all but Solange and Schrödinger (but neither are religious for reasons of fashion and rationality).
Channa discovers there’s an ancient set of stairs carved into the back, going up to the top of the plateau... But Schrödinger begins to talk about witnessing the Matron and Maiden of the Inn revealing themselves as horrible wraiths; and the group is distracted from further investigation by this news...
Fenri gathers her daily reservoir of divine magic, but Pelor is still so far away in her heart. The Sun above is not the shining hope of the Dawn Father, but an eerie ball of sustaining light and warmth that makes the priestess feel nothing. Solange watches the priestess’s devotions, bemused.
Schrödinger, after learning of this place’s connection to the Guardian in the Mists, recalls the Mists that swallowed him in the alleys of Ludendorf. He goes around asking everyone if they also encountered banks of misty clouds. In truth, they all affirm his suspicions--they were brought together by this unknown force of Mist!
Fenri actively tells of her fiery experience in her homeland, and everyone is quite shocked at how calm and sunny the halfling is about their traumatic experience! Channa is especially touched, but she hides her emotions from being so open.
Fenri tells Schrödinger she prayed about how to handle his Science, and she’s concluded he’s not a bad person. She gives him a hug--awkward because he’s nearly three times her size, as well as it’s exceedingly intimate for a Lamordian to be hugged!
The group hears a wagon approach, and Solange replaces her disguising veil. It’s a halfling man driving a large wagon of milk jugs and hay. He greets the group in low Mordentish, and Fenri in their shared racial language; introducing himself as Terrii of the Jollydell Clan. Terrii sees the group is quite out of sorts, so he offers to take them on a ride into the nearby town of Campanula--far to the north in Dementlieu. Terrii Jollydell’s sons pop out from the hay bales in the wagon back, having hidden with crossbows in case the group were bandits. Fenri makes friends with them, even giving Terrii a Pelorian prayer to help his ailing wife on their homestead.
The halfling boys excitedly talk about local vigilante, named Night’s Vengeance! A masked rake and friendly scoundrel who has humiliated the local nobility, riding on a pitch black steed through the deep forest roads uncaught for weeks. He’s crashed noble soirees on horseback, as well as stolen the clothes of an entire noble entourage for the local baron’s son!
For the latter, Night’s Vengeance unhorsed the carriage, stole Baron Montagne’s son’s infamously bejeweled cloak and abandoned the boy naked in his horseless carriage--in the middle of the woods at night! The rake then rode through town, standing on the horses laughing and throwing the cloak’s jewels in the central water fountain of Campanula’s central square.
Campanula is a town surrounded by thick forests, and supposedly wolves prowl the dense foliage and mountains. The group does some shopping for supplies and getting their bearings.
Solange recognizes they are on near the northern border between Dementlieu and Lamordia. She’s never been away from Port-a-Lucine in all her life, but thankfully it seems no time has passed since her experience in the Catacombs...
Pryrrish (with her swirling sight invocations) helps Schrödinger translate the signs of a halfling greengrocer and helps him pay for apples--he’s never had to buy sundry goods on his own before. Pryrrish garners some attention for being an elf, and Schrodinger begins to be protective of her.
They barter at a local stable for a pair of horses and a wagon, meeting a noble’s stableman Vincente Quint. Vincente is quite average but happily helps negotiate a fair deal with them and the local horsemaster.
The group goes to the town hall to exchange their coins for Dementlieu currency. Upon approach, they see servants of House Montagne wading through the square’s fountain for any remaining jewels of the baron’s sons. And speaking of, Lord Isaac Montagne II (Baron Montagne’s son) appears from town hall and immediately insults them as peasants for not moving out of “their better’s way”. Channa despises nobles but is convinced to step back.
Inside Campanula town hall, they encounter Baron Montagne leaving after speaking with the local magistrate. A hunting dog perfectly follows him after. Fenri can sense the baron’s disdain behind his placid, confident smile. (And she gets the awful thought that as he passed the group, he was learning their scent... Like the dog obediently beside him would...)
Schrödinger, as a noble scion of Lamordia, is easily able to procure a bank note to exchange his golden gluttons for Dementlieu’s corona gold coins. But Channa and Pryrrish, who have pooled their Eberronian gold together, are outright rejected by the magistrate for some reason.
While Pryrrish accompanies Schrödinger in obtaining his money at the bank, Solange, Channa and Fenri head to the local watering hole. The Howling Wolf Alehouse.
The Howling Wolf is a raucous but warm peasant’s tavern. Solange, in her dour mourning veils (her hatpin of disguise hiding her caliban nature), gets a large table for the whole party.
Before the bread basket is even brought out, Fenri sneaks away to the alleyway outside, hoping to pray to Pelor again now that it’s about noontime. Channa volunteers to find their sunny companion, and the two bond over the strangeness of this land. Channa hesitantly accepts Fenri’s hug of appreciation. (She has never been one for many friends before. Especially not after he vanished...)
Meanwhile, Solange awkwardly sits at the big table. She overhears the sounds of carousing on the upper floor of the tavern. According to hearsay, they are The Flying Wolves: a group of ex-Falkovnian refugees hired by Baron Montagne to capture Night’s Vengeance. They are led by the infamous half-elven spearwoman, the Falconeater...
Pryrrish and Schrödinger easily obtain the Dementlieuse currency. They have a similar matter-of-factness to the way they talk. Pryrrish is reminded of her older brother, sadly.
After an exceedingly good meal at the Alehouse--with Schrödinger taking half a dozen rolls with them--the group obtains their wagon and horses. They decide to camp somewhere for the night, as the journey to Port-a-Lucine will take at least three days! And the night is dangerous so far from civilization.
At a small well-used campsite beside a mountain stream, the group prepares to bed down for the night. It seems the horses instinctually dislike lord Schrödinger, so it takes Solange and Fenri to direct and care for the animals.
Solange, upon dusk breaking, uses her gravedigger deathchatter ability to send messages at night, to alert any fellow gravedigger or death cleric of her position. She hopes they will pass the message along to the Order of the Moonlight Vigil...
Just after they prepare their campfire, the sound of beating hooves alerts the party! Fenri grabs her sling-staff and clutches her holy symbol. Pryrrish grabs the large Tome at her side, shadowy wisps emerging from its pages about her fingertips. Channa unwinds her spiked chain and has Iggy the earth familiar burrow underground. Solange lights her lantern-staff and peers into the darkness of the road. And Schrödinger twists his bones into a rapier-like weapon, thrumming with green electricity!
A figure in a mask, standing in the saddle and wielding a hand crossbow and rapier, rides out from the darkness and into the moonlight! The horse he rides is a majestic stallion of pure ebony, breathing heavily as its powerful hooves beat the earth!
The figure is Night’s Vengeance, though not as cartoonishly evil in his depictions on the many wanted posters in town! He begs the group to distract those following him! He rides east, throwing a bag of coins towards them for their trouble!
A group of riders in wolf pelts and swords comes down from the direction the vigilante came. The Flying Wolves on the hunt! And leading the pack is the Falconeater, with her spearhead glistening in the moonlight! A Wolf notices the bag of coins on the ground and the hunters give chase, ignoring the group’s attempt to point them in the wrong direction.
Suddenly, the noble Schrödinger causes his entire body to emerge in a necromantic suit of spiky bone armor! This upsets Channa and Pryrrish, the latter of whom was right beside him when his transformation occurred!
Solange creates a magical area of briars upon the road, slowing and harming the horses of the Flying Wolves! Combat has begun for this group!
Freaks & Facades will continue in Session Four - Perilous Roads! Click here to read on! [WIP]
Thanks for reading! We hope you love our friendly freaks as much as we do!
Parts: Zero/Cast, One P1, One P2, Two, Three, Four [WIP]
So this is one of many drawings to come of our dnd party. While I would love to talk about how cool we are, I am instead going to write a list of our worst moments.
Flurry Windenmere
- Let a man fall to his literal death, despite being able to prevent it.
- Told her name to an evil fairy
- Lost her job + got slapped on the street by her former boss
