Shroud

Through dark, spiked stone towers, the final rays of light for the day fall upon the broken slums. Sharp shadows fall and creep across every which direction through the streets. When the final glints of light vanish from the golden siding of the tallest of the towers, the bloodsuckers venture from their homes out onto the streets. Humanity cowers, and briskly file into their sheds. They keep their eyes cast to the ground, avoiding the red, predatory glare of the true inhabitants of this gothic sprawl.   Be it from an old vinyl shop at street level, or the penthouse of a towering spire, the dominant beings of the world have changed. They are predator while humanity is prey, the herd, cattle. The Vampires emerged from the shadows all those years ago, just shy of fading from living memory. They burst forth, displaying impossible, unholy powers and unnatural strength. Men and Women in arms were shattered before them as searing red flame and clouds of bats tore through flesh, bone, and steel. Humanity's blood was spilled en masse and voraciously guzzled by these creatures, who screamed to the blood-red moon in ecstasy. Humanity was broken and forced into the dirt to toil away in service to their new undying masters. They were ageless beings who adjusted well into their new aristocratic rule. Pragmatic and ill-tempered creatures who bled forth nations to satisfy the most measly of noble requests.   Yet during the day, they vanish once more. Not truly, of course; their eyes still gaze upon the filth they perceive as man from shaded windows or from against the wall under the countless, spiked canopies. Their influence becomes invisible under the sun, but still carries an unbearable weight. The fields must be worked, the water must be pumped, and the poor cattle must be fed lest the blood not and the herd become target for the retributive culling. Some may slip away from the day, and relive the lives once known before the masters of the night reared their ugly heads. From the day some can fight, while the overlords fume from afar, unable to take action. Yet as the cities grow ever taller and shrouded in shadow, the day's light retreats ever further away. Towards more remote and isolated regions, where many question if the price for this freedom is too great.   Night must full again, just as the sun must rise time after time. And the Vampires creep out again and resume the perverted reflection of man that is their lives. The day my drive them back so that humanity can hope, but for how long? Whispers from the upper echelons tell of a time soon approaching where the Vampires need no longer fear that their grasp will be loosed by the sun. Where they can walk eternally under the moonlight. When man will be forever consigned to the rule of the undead. When the Shroud will fall across the world, and the age of man grinds to a halt.   The Vampires rule over humanity, rebuilding the world as they see fit in the wake of their war. They were raised all at once, without warning, from various ages of human history. They fought savagely under the leadership of a monster in a child's guise. So began Nachtreich, the Empire of Night. While the vampiric aristocracy and Empress of Nachtreich tighten their grip upon the urban world. Would-be revolutionaries and refugees flee to the plains and the deserts, where the sun shines bright and offers limited protection. They strike where they can against the vampires, but in doing so further sway the vampiric citizenry to support the Empress's final solution to humanity, The World Shroud.