After Sundown 1e

Countries come and go. Institutions last forever.

Prague is a small but historically important city located smack-dab in the middle of Central Europe on the banks of the Vltava River. It seems incomprehensible that you could attempt to conquer Europe without taking Prague along the way, and so it is that the city has changed hands six times in the twentieth century alone. Tonight it's part of NATO and the EU, but it is a good bet that the moment another power struggle breaks out in Europe that Prague will change hands a few more times. And yet throughout the political turmoil the Bohemian people have pretty much gone about their business. They have a bureaucratic system that works for them, and they see no reason to change how they do things just because there are foreign soldiers marching through their city again. And while the parks are crowded with monuments to the might of the Germans, the Russians, the Italians, and even the United States - from the perspective of the Bohemian on the street the bare fact of the matter is that their bridges, university, and theater system predate Columbus' expedition to the New World.

There are about 1.9 million human people living in the greater Prague area. Prague is divided into a series of sub-cities that all have names, but while under Communist occupation they were also numbered for postal considerations. So rather than worry overmuch about whether you're in Motol or Střešovice, a visitor can simply get by being in Prague 5 or Prague 6. Prague 1 is in the middle, and the numbers go out to 20 in a rough spiral, but people hardly even think of the areas outside the core 8 as being in Prague. The city is small enough that you could walk across it if you wanted to. And between the twisty medieval streets and the gleeful disregard of stop lights, traffic is bad enough that if it weren't for the comprehensive mass transit system you seriously might want to do that.

There are about 400 supernatural creatures living permanently in Prague, and most of them are members of the Covenant. It is of historical note that the "modern" methods of making every single kind of Animate were developed in Prague, and so it is perhaps unsurprising that the Animate population of Prague is disproportionately large, with nearly a hundred of them walking around. The largest secondary Syndicate is the Communes, with about fifty members in town (most from Russia or France), with a quite small and relatively recent immigrant community of World Crime League members (mostly from Vietnam) and Makhzen members (mostly from Turkey or Bulgaria).

The city was the capitol of the Holy Roman Empire in the 14th century, and there was a serious attempt to get the Covenant papacy moved to Prague at that time. In anticipation of this, Cardinal Čáslav of Prague created a number of bureaucratic institutions intent on making running things easier. It is from this point that the Faculty of Sorcery was created, which is a monastic order dedicated to magical research. The Covenant hierarchy in Prague has changed remarkably little since then, weathering Bohemia's absorption into the Hussite Territories, Austria, Poland, Moravia, Lusatia, Silesia, Hungary, Germany and Russia. The Cardinal of Prague has always adopted a "wait and see" approach to politics and an ambivalent attitude to religion in general, attitudes that have in recent nights been brought into mainstream Covenant culture. And yet in times of crusade (such as the infamous Black Crusade of the 1930s and 40s), Prague's lack of action to advance the faith has been seen as a mark of betrayal. In 1941, Cardinal Čáslav had to go into hiding for several years when the Antipope sent in a more fervent replacement in the form of Cardinal von Moltke. But even in those days, the Prague Covenant went on pretty much as before, with priests loyal to Čáslav simply carrying on in secret. When Soviet vampire hunters took out von Moltke in 1945, the old regime came back with barely a hiccup. The religious leaders of the city weren't especially concerned even when von Moltke's black clad inquisitors were actively hunting them because Čáslav had been "deposed" seven times previously.

While the oldest Golem in Makhzen records was an idol brought to life in Libya that was ultimately destroyed in a war with the Maltese Troll Kingdom, the modern clay + power runes system was developed in Prague by a Rabbi. The first recorded Frankensteins were mummies made in Egypt with mystic oils, but the modern system of corpses and lightning bolts was invented by Viktor Frankenstein while he was studying at the Faculty of Sorcery in Prague. The first Android on record was a Greek hollow marble statue filled with blood, but the modern robot (and indeed the word "Robot") again comes from Prague. The city's supernatural community is justifiably proud of their life creation work, but they have several times been decried as heretics and blasphemers for doing it (most recently in 1938 and before that in 1848).

After the surrounding country became Communist, a fair number of Cauchemar moved to Prague and attempted to get the domain to revolt against the Covenant altogether. But while external Covenant elements had done some pretty atrocious things to the city inhabitants, this was not enough to shake the traditional trust in Čáslav. The Cardinal famously reported that the Inquisition and the harm it had done were "von Moltke's problem." The Communes haven't really stopped trying to take the place over, but the local Covenant's take on the matter seems to mostly be "meh." It's their response to most policy disagreements.

In the 1970s, Czechoslovakia opened its borders to enemies of the West. And as a result a noticeable number of Vietnamese and Bulgarian people came into the city. And with them came representatives of the World Crime League and the Makhzen. The Cardinal's statement to the newcomers has simply been "What you do and what you believe are your problem. Do not spill my beer." And as such, diplomatic relations have been fairly positive. During this period people (and to a much lesser degree supernaturals) from all over the Soviet sphere of influence also appeared in town, and as a result the city boasts a Mongolian Criminal Syndicate. If that has any supernatural underpinnings, it hasn't come clean about them to the rest of supernatural society.

In modern nights, the Czech Republic is a member of the European Union. And while it hasn't really changed the way its internal institutions work in a manner that the EU finds satisfactory, it has opened its borders with the West. Now you can get on a train and travel from Paris or Rome to Prague without ever showing an ID or a passport. It means that the number of supernatural creatures wandering in and out of town at any given time is pretty large. With access to world famous beer, theater, and nightclubs, many members of the Covenant (and other Syndicates) make it a point to visit Prague.

There are no Military Ordinals or even any Orders Militant operating in Prague. There is simply the main religious branch and the Faculty of Sorcery. As such, almost everyone comes under the purview of Cardinal Čáslav, who has been mostly in control of the situation for over six hundred years. He's a Nosferatu of renowned apathy and cowardice. He doesn't collect tithes, but he does take bribes. Not secretly either, there is seriously a "bribe bowl" right on his desk. The Faculty of Sorcery is run by Prelate Korvin, a Khabit who achieved immortality some time in the late 19th century. He was appointed Prelate in 1919 by Čáslav, a move that apparently quite angered the Antipope. The city pays only the loosest possible attention to antipapal bulls, and the city has 4 Glossators on hand that are treated pretty much exactly like they held the rank of Palatine - much to the annoyance of actual Palatines.

The headquarters of the Covenant are in a chapel built under the Church of Jan Hus in the middle of Old Town Prague. The building has been closed for decades, and the Covenant floats various fake plans to convert the historic building into something or other (such as a shoe store or a museum of Michael Jackson memorabilia), but these plans always collapse, lost somewhere in Czech bureaucracy and financial ruin. As such, the building has been a construction zone for decades and none of the locals seem to think this is at all weird. There is an elevator behind a pile of drywall too large to easily steal and it goes down to a posh church and office suite carved out of the catacombs beneath the city. Most of the Cardinal's employees are actually humans whose loyalties have been guaranteed by Čáslav's considerable mental powers. There are currently 45 Priests that work for the Cardinal, but they mostly don't keep a terribly close eye on their flock.

The police in Prague are incredibly corrupt. Rather serious offenses can be wiped away with the expenditure of a few thousand crowns (maybe a hundred Euros). It's really just a matter of knowing who to bribe. And the Covenant offices know exactly who to bribe. And for a mere 100% markup, they'll make those payments on your behalf. As such, Covenant members in Prague can get away with murder. As long as they get the chump change flowing and don't spill the beer.

The Faculty of Sorcery is a research and teaching body that serves as kind of a Hogwarts for Central Europe. It employs 17 professors who hold the rank of Monk. Their primary work area is actually just a couple blocks away from Prague Castle, meaning that you could seriously stick you head out of the window and look at the country's presidential building. But let's face it: the President of Czech Republic is a laughingstock, and Prelate Korvin is not. They have a Shadow Gate, and have constructed a small fortress in Mictlan to keep hauntings to a manageable level in the city.

The Communes have a considerably larger main office, which is basically the contents of a gray Stalinist apartment block (called a Panelak in the local vernacular) off in Prague 4 (this is the South East of the city, well away from the Vltava). The Communes use it as an actual place of business.

The primary draw of Prague is the beer. You can get that literally anywhere. Cheaper than soda, and better than any other beer on the planet, it's a substantial draw. Also of importance is classical culture. The stately buildings of symphonies and opera houses stand in glorious testament to the Bohemian's proud history of standing at the forefront of European Culture for nearly a thousand years. One can see a world-class presentation of a Mozart opera literally any day of the week simply by deciding to go. And the immortals of society seem to like it that way. Anyone who wishes to swan around in a tuxedo performing James Bondish style hijinks can do so in Prague on a moment's notice.

The twisting medieval streets of Old Town are crowded with glorious architecture, expensive boutiques, and shoulder to shoulder crowds. This area does not look like Disneyland, because Disneyland actually looks like Old Town Prague (Walt himself was so taken by the place that he designed the castle and Mainstreet Disneyland to be reminiscent of Old Town Prague). Crime is completely out of control here. Gangs of thieves steal forty passports a day. Random killings are not well tolerated by the city establishment, but an extra fight here and there or a few thefts are going to be so lost in the statistics that the church might not even notice, let alone care. Old Town Square itself has a set of dark crosses in the pattern of the cobbles. This marks the place where a couple dozen knights were burned at the stake for heresy, and now represents a weakness in the universe where gates from Limbo are periodically opened.

If you cross over the Vltava to the North you get into Holešovice, a region of Prague 8 that is surrounded on three sides by a bend in the river. This area is a bizarre mix of Art Nouveau and Cyberpunk sensibilities. The club from Blade is a real place, it's in Prague 8, and it's called Mecca. It's generally open from 23:00 until 5 in the morning. The film somewhat exaggerates, as even when the place is closed down to the public for vampire parties there are usually no more than about a dozen vampires present, and even then most of them are from out of town. A few blocks away there's the train station, and next to that is The Cross, which is an art commune that runs a bar and dance club that is filled with drugs, goths, and sexual deviants. The main creator is a Nezumi that collects junk from old Soviet factories and scrapyards and then welds them into shapes. He made the beer garden and the bar entirely out of industrial equipment and bus seats. You can get drugs as well as booze, and relax in atmospheric heavy metal or drum-n-bass while shady goings-on go on. The upstairs is a much better lit art gallery, featuring the kinds of tortured paintings you'd think a couple of Fallen would come up with.

If you cross the Vltava to the Southwest you get to Anděl, which is a soul-crushing capitalist dreamland. Shiny shopping malls have sexy young women strutting around with trays of cigarettes for sale like they were in a 1930s movie, and just a few blocks away you have Big Sister - the legendary free brothel. Yes, really. It's like a normal brothel, only you have the option of signing away your rights to the film they make of you sleeping with prostitutes (note: they will make a film of you anyway). Then they will sell the DVD of your exploits to whoever wants to buy a copy, and they make money on that instead of from fees from individual Johns. Unsurprisingly, there are a number of other pornography studios in this area.

If you follow the river south from Old Town you come to Charles Square. Here you can see the church where Bohemian partisans took out Heydrich during the death throws of the Reich. But for the supernaturally inclined, the big deal is the Faust House (called the Faustův Dům in the local vernacular, making it sound even more ominous). It used to house a group of alchemists who worked for the Emperor and they did a bunch of infernal sorcery. There's another weakness to the Dark Reflection here, and the city morgue is right across the street. The front end of the building is now a mundane pharmacy, but the back is still filled with crazy sorcery. And offices.

Prague is used for the filming of many horror films because of the cramped alleys, the gothic architecture, and the corrupt city administrators who will allow filming companies to close down streets for filming with the scantest of bribes. And honestly, that makes it a great setting to actually have horror take place in as well.