Dementlieu

Dementlieu is decadent dread, a domain that blends Renaissance elegance with psychological horror. Think Phantom of the Opera, Eyes Wide Shut, and The Masque of the Red Death—with an undercurrent of Stepford Wives and Black Swan.

The horror comes not from monsters in the dark, but from:

• The horror of being seen.
• The horror of losing yourself to your performance.
• The knowledge that you can never stop smiling.

• Dominant Aristocracy: Wealth and social rank mean everything, but the hierarchy is fluid—one night’s affair can elevate or destroy you.
• Muses and Artists: Poets, sculptors, perfumers, and costumers are in high demand. Some sell their souls for inspiration. Some succeed...and still vanish for overshadowing the wrong person.
• Masked Vigilantes and Rebels: Whispers of the Nocturne Club or the Troupe of Truth swirl in secret salons. These are people who try to speak honestly—or expose the façade. Their lives are short. Their legend long.

The only true city in the domain, Port-a-Lucine is a dream of decadent Enlightenment. Its marble facades and tree-lined boulevards gleam in the gaslight, and its people strut and smile, draped in the latest fashion and gossip.

• Theater and opera fill the air with elegance.
• Perfumed carriages clatter down cobbled avenues.
• Masks are always in style—literal or social—and no one is ever out of character.

Yet behind every polished smile is panic. Everyone plays a part, and forgetting your lines—or showing the slightest crack in your persona—means you’ve been marked. What happens to the unworthy? They’re quietly erased. A whisper in the Mist. A face missing from a family portrait. A painting unfinished.

Beyond Port-a-Lucine lies a misty limbo of half-expressed suburbs, grand manors, silent vineyards, and estates where no one answers the door—because no one lives there anymore. These "phantom arrondissements" shift and blur with the Mists, as if struggling to exist without the city's attention.

The geography of Dementlieu doesn’t make sense. Streets sometimes double back. Parties last for days without anyone noticing the sun never rose. Mirrors reflect things they shouldn't. The very air tastes of perfume and anxiety.

The Rules of Survival

1. Never Show Weakness – Sadness, fatigue, humility, and honesty are considered worse than scandal. They’re admissions of defeat, and nothing is more fatal.
2. Play Your Role – Every citizen has an unspoken role: the flirty socialite, the stoic poet, the brilliant academic. To deviate is to be noticed. And to be noticed is to be judged.
3. Forget the Missing – Someone didn’t show up to last night’s ball? There must never have been such a person. Denial isn’t just expected—it’s mandatory.
4. Follow the Fashion – Trends change nightly, often with no explanation. Keeping up is a matter of life and death. To wear last week’s brocade is an invitation to vanish.

Dementlieu’s true terror is social horror. It is a place where everyone is performing, always, even in private, even in dreams. Every glance is a judgment. Every misstep is fatal. And no one—not even the domain’s rulers—knows who is enforcing these rules.

• Are the Mists watching?
• Is it the will of the crowd?
• Is it something within the fabric of Dementlieu itself?

Whispers speak of "The Marionette Court", a secret circle of fashionistas and salonistes who pull the city’s strings from behind lace fans. Others say Dementlieu is a stage, and the audience is somewhere outside, waiting for the grand finale.