His castle always seems to be shrouded in the darkness of night, and for those who have survived its dangers there is little question why...  Deep within the forests of the continent of Faydwer, littered with the bodies of those who are foolish enough to challenge him and his minions, past throngs of dark elf servants and stone gargoyle faces, sits the Tier'Dal vampire Mayong Mistmoore.  His court is always full, a lavish banquet and celebration constantly in service.  Gypsies strum lutes and play for him, the clanking of glasses by his guests can be heard through every hallway, and revelry of every kind can be heard behind every room's door.

Yet one can walk around the corner of a hallway and suddenly see nothing but dusty trappings and worn tapestries, cobwebs hanging from every doorway, not a living soul in sight or a sound to be heard but their own footsteps and the scurrying of tiny creatures.

It is the home of the long dead, of a house that treats its friends and loathes its enemies.  And Mistmoore, a vampire of cruel power and warped honor, has nothing but enemies.