#dementlieu

[spicyspell]

just girls being girls? debate.

[darklordazalin]

Azalin Reviews: Darklord Saidra d'Honaire

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.

[darksideofthemoonbot]

Dementlieu

"La Mort Rouge a encore tué !"

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!

[malzenn]

jo shelley, my beloved

we went to the masquerade, killed some guys, and then fled from strahd

[demiplanardemagogue]

Today’s obituaries. Or possibly found buried beneath Castle Ravenloft.

[freaks-and-facades-ravenloft]

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]

- Aboleth Eye, 08/06/2023!

[cat8457]

"You will ALWAYS be alone." - Flurry Windenmere

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

- Doesn't know what a god is

- Ate sus snow and "tea leaves"

[i-am-rat-soup]

Ravenloft OC lore drop!

Felix Quinn, a 93 year old elf, works as a detective out of Martira Bay, Darkon. His first case was proving the innocence of his friend, who was accused of murder, by providing evidence that she was out of town, and evidence that someone else was involved. He gathered said evidence before anonymously presenting it to the private investigator known as Alanik Ray, who then used said evidence as the starting point of his investigation. During that case, Ray decided to find out who left the anonymous note that had been slipped under his door. Eventually, Ray found out that the person who had left that note was Felix Quinn. After talking to the young man, he decided to take him under his wing as an apprentice. He mentored Quinn for several years before eventually leaving for Port-a-Lucine, Dementleiu. The two keep in touch, sending letters back and forth every few months.

[kalach-cha]

love having a fucking breakdown about exams when i can hear my parents watching shrek 2 in the next room

[rahadaddy]

When I was a child, we would drive to Laredo to spend weekends and holidays with my grandparents. My grandmother had a beautiful garden. She had a fig tree and two orange trees in the front. In the back, a veritable jungle grew in meticulously planted pathways, leaving just enough space for lawn games, plastic pink flamingos, and my swing set. The porch was a humid paradise, shrouded with see-through plastic tarps to keep out rain. She had bird feeders and hummingbird feeders and she would get so angry when we played too roughly too close to her flowers. When old age forced her and my grandfather to sell the house, the plants came with them to San Antonio, but the second garden lacked the first's finesse. It was dominated by crepe myrtles that came with the house and a pedestal and trellis that featured a statue of the Virgin Mary. A bad thunderstorm blew through and knocked the Virgin Mary to the ground, severing her sculpted head. My grandmother put her severed head up, and proudly displayed her in the front lawn, which always felt like a testament to her unshakable faith and a warning to the neighbors that a crazy woman lived there. It was a little sad, too, but I don't want to be sad about it. Instead, I want to think about how she would yell at my father, her son-in-law, for mowing the grass too short after my grandfather died, but privately, she would tell us how glad she was that my father was a "sweet boy" who would come over to help. She couldn't care for her garden much by then, but we all tried to help.

The plants came from all over - Home Depot, the grocery store, a neighbor's yard... And often, out of state and out of the country. The number of times I sat in the back of my grandparents' Crown Victoria with illegal produce and plant cuttings, crossing the border from Mexico to Texas was a non-zero number. I didn't know until I was much older that it wasn't normal to hide your oranges from border patrol, much in the same way that I didn't know until I was much older that my grandmother had also hidden the Mexico trips from my mother for twenty years.

She could make anything grow. I don't know how she did it. She would see a plant she liked the look of on a walk and she would take the finest clipping of it, so small the owner would never notice, and within a month, she'd have a bigger, better version of that plant in her yard. When my mom was growing up, she had a lot filled with fruits and vegetables to keep the household fed. Her kids would tend to it but if they didn't do it just right, she had no patience for them. I think after decades of growing food - of working the fields, of subsistence farming - she relished having a pleasure garden, full of nothing but flowers.

She passed when I was in high school. She was a fierce, difficult woman, who was as tough and sweet as fruit leather. She loved me and I love her. I can't bring myself to say "loved". I love her still.

So I gave her garden to my arcane trickster rogue, Gisele Domencyzk, who cultivates plants from every corner of the Dark Domains just to make her baby sister smile. She has smuggled bouquets from Borca. She has grown daffodils from Dementlieu. She's brought all her plants to sunless Barovia, using magic items and spell scrolls to keep the garden alive. And, yes, she has the severed head of Ezra the Blind of the Mists displayed proudly amidst it all. Why shouldn't she?

I don't know that my grandmother would understand or appreciate my little tribute to her. I just know that it matters to me that my rogue, who has worked and grown in impossible circumstances and thrived in her own way makes me feel that much closer to someone I loved and lost a long time ago. I know it's silly, but I think of her sister, Ophelia, and I remember the taste of scrambled eggs made with the creamiest half-n-half for breakfast and the feeling of cold tile under my feet and wicker furniture I never liked biting into my skin. I think of being loved unconditionally and being the product of women's choices (hers, my mother's later) to make a better life out of nothing.. I think of how a 5-foot-nothing old lady was more than happy to lie to officers of the law to bring the sweetest oranges home to the people she loved.

And I feel loved all over again, getting to take a piece of her forward to tell stories with my friends.

[i-think-im-rarity]

Ms Fancy, lets calm down, take a breath.

I know you're upset.

I'm only starting to understand now.

She has Joy and laughter and you feel you have none.

But, are you not joyful? Are you not pleased with all the people coming to your aid?

The laughter will come. You will develop it. Or at least, I have seen it in other broken Rarities that they eventually regain what was lost.

Find the joy in the people who have come to support. Find the joy in the spreading of goodwill.

Find the joy in being yourself, free from others manipulating you.

@gm-scoots

(A bet is finished, and no one won.)

(The Dark Lord of Dementlieu has been redeemed.)

(Celebrate! Dark Lord Rareté de Licorne is the first redeemed Prisoner!)

[spicyspell]

A bunch of recent out of context doodles

[darklordazalin]

Azalin Reviews: Darklord Dominic d'Honaire

Domain: Dementlieu Domain Formation: 707 BC Power Level:💀💀⚫⚫⚫ Sources: Domains of Dread (2e), Realms of Terror (2e), Domains and Denizens (2e), Monstrous Compendium I-III (2e), Secrets of the Dread Realms (3e)

The rolling hills, sparse woodlands, and relatively peaceful wildlife of Dementieu merely obfuscate the true horror of this realm - petty, bickering nobles used as marionettes by a man child.

The Dementlieuse use art to hide all they do. They wear excessive amounts of face paint and ridiculously elaborate wigs to conceal their flaws and even distasteful stage magicians aren’t as they first appear. Stage magic, bah. At least they have a secret society in which they perform real magic, but to have such masters of the arcane reduced to mere entertainment is beyond insulting.

The divide between the upper and lower classes of Dementlieu is extreme with the upper class spending their days in useless rivalries and trivial pursuits while the poor do all the actual work. This has resulted in uprisings in the past and things appear to be on the brink once again.

Most of this is Dominic D’Honaire’s design or more accurately, playground. Dominic was born in the land of Mordent and has enjoyed the art of manipulation since he was a child. Some say he was born evil, others blame over indulgence from the adults in his life after his mother died. Whichever the case, Dominic took delight in manipulating people against one another and relished in each relationship he ruined.

He was so skilled and subtle with his machinations that those he used often thought they were carrying out their own whims. When he was 7, he encountered one of the first adults in his life that actively tried to enforce strict rules on the spoiled brat, his nanny. To rid himself of her, he convinced her of things that were never true and ruined every relationship she held dear. Her mind was so warped by his gaslighting, he convinced her to throw herself off the rocky cliffs of Mordent and into the Sea of Sorrows.

When the Mordentshire constables became suspicious of the nanny’s disappearance, Dominic became uneasy and convinced his father to move the family out of Mordent. A common theme in there realms for Dominic was not the first to flee Mordent only to enter his own prison. As the D’Honaire’s left Mordent, the domain of Dementlieu was formed with Dominic as its Darklord.

As a child, Dominic continued to manipulate the adults around him to amass wealth and influence. By the age of 20 he was appointed the chief advisor to the lord governor and is the head of the Council of Brilliance that advises them. This Council and the lord governor are merely Dominic’s puppets. Well, all but one who Dominic has deluded himself into believing he is in love with.

Dominic’s rule is based on his natural and supernatural means to manipulate and control others. Though not a spell caster, his voice and gaze are similar to the Suggestion and Dominate spells. With time, his domination over another’s mind is almost permanent. These individuals are referred to as “Obedient” and only Domination by another or leaving the realm of Dementlieu will remove Dominic’s influence.

The greatest threat to Dominic’s rule is “The Brain”. Dominic believes this to be a code name of some sort, but it is literally a brain in a jar and considered to be a failed experiment by Mordenheim. So...no differetn from any of the doctor's other experiments. This Brain and Dominic are in a constant game of chess trying to gain control of the people’s minds without knowing who their opponent is.

I appreciate a cunning web of manipulation, but only when it serves a greater purpose. Dominic’s plans are more for his own entertainment and have very little value. Of course, getting to the spider at the center of the web would be difficult for those unable to move in high society, but this is Dominic’s only real power. His curse is a strange one. Our Tormentors gave this over-sized child a literal playground and the only drawback he faces is any woman he finds attractive will find him repulsive. Is this a true curse or just an indication of the good taste and high intellect of Dementlieu women? I am in a generous mood, I will grant 1.5 skulls to this man child.

[gabriellevonbrandthofen]

That right there is the mist. Now let's talk about the mist. Can we talk about the mist, please, Jaz? I've been dying to talk about the mist with you all day, OK? "Zarean Xil," this name keeps coming up over and over again. Every day Zarean's influence over the mist is getting shown to us. Zarean Xil! Zarean Xil! I look in the mists, and this whole DARK REALM is Zarean Xil! So I say to myself, "I gotta find this guy! I gotta go up to the Dark Powers and show them the mists are being controlled by him! Otherwise, they're never going to get it and they're going to keep coming back down here." So I go up to Zarean's office and what do I find out, Jaz? What do I find out?! There is no Zarean Xil. The man does not exist, okay? So I decide, "Oh shit, buddy, I gotta dig a little deeper." There's no Zarean Xil? You gotta be kidding me! I got BOXES full of Zarean! All right, so I start marchin' my way down to Saidra in Dementlieu and I knock on her door and I say, "SAIDRA! SAIDRA! I gotta talk to you about Zarean." And when I open the door what do I find? There's not a single goddamn building in that Dark Realm! There...is...no...Saidra in Dementlieu. Jaz, half the Dark Lords in Ravenloft have been made up. This dimension is a goddamn ghost town.

Decided to draw Alyssa, another character!

[quillowisp]

On of my favorited from my Ravenloft Seeds pack on Etsy. This is a funeral invite very much so modeled after real funeral invites from about the 1600s

This one is for the Dementlieu setting from Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft

[demiplanardemagogue]

Another comparison post. Despite the age difference between the elder and younger D'Honaire, they are both equally petulant.

Some quite hated Saidra for stealing Dominic's place in a completely new domain with the same Dementlieu name. We here at the Demagogue always mapped Saidra's new Dementlieu in the Tome of Terrors with its fairy tale vibes.