New Orleans by Night
What more perfect environment could there be for the nocturnal
Kindred than the glorious city of New Orleans? It is a place —
perhaps the only place — that fully embodies not only the feel but
the very essence of what it is to be damned to darkness. Even the
paradox of unlife itself is mirrored in every contradictory facet of
this roiling city that is at once gaudy and genteel, pious and
perfidious, daring and discreet. Here, in the bloated belly of the
Deep South, the wine flows, the dice roll and the pleasures come
slow and steady as molasses. Nothing is difficult here, unless it
has to be, and yet nothing is free, either.
Nothing is ever free.
Some readers might think they are familiar with such a place. Some
might even have been there, a fair number on more than one occasion.
But the New Orleans you think you know, though it seems to be the
city of which is spoken here, is not the New Orleans of a
modern-gothic world. No, the New Orleans of the World of Darkness
is a significantly darker place, filled with more people, more
crime, more vice, more wine, more desire, more despair — more
everything than its realworld counterpart. This is where it all
hangs out, for both Kindred and kine, where dreams intercourse with
reality, begetting nightmares most unreal — where even the dead
must toss in endless, fitful sleep.
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