Like rare jewels strung on a necklace, the cities of Central and Eastern Europe tan out across the breadth of the continent. Linking East to West with their drunken spiderweb pattern, they serve as bastions of civilization — and hence, as refuges for Cainites — in a vast wilderland of barbarity. Most began as
outposts of Rome: garrisons or supply stations serving the soldiery of the far-flung empire, though they now evince the character of their Eastern conquerors. While they are accorded the courtesy of being named as cities, many are just emerging from their former states as barbarian encampments, villages and towns, and they are, consequently, in a condition of growth and change.
Beyond these enclaves lies wilderness: league upon league of steppes, plains, forests and mountains, broken here and there by crumbling relics of Rome's mighty, fallen empire. Remnants of old roads, bridges, and long-deserted outposts, a rusting weapon or a broken pot stand mute witness to Rome's withdrawal in the face of successive invasions. Some Cainites find themselves trapped within these ruins, besieged by Lupines who wait for them to step outside the confines of the walled fortresses.
A few hardy Cainites -— mostly Gangrel, Nosferatu and Ravnos — brave the endless trek through Eastern Europe's perilous wastelands. Most vampires conducting business outside their circumscribed spheres send mortal agents in their stead. Even Cainites native to the region travel with great care and surround themselves with heavily armed retainers when they must leave their strongholds. The sensible ones stay within their cities' protective grasp.
In the cities' stony walls, mortals have begun throwing off the shackles of oppressive feudalism while Cainites wage age-old feuds. Eastern pride battles Western arrogance as each struggles to assert itself. Treaties are made and broken in a year — or a night — as once-staunch allies turn to enemies and former foes offer alliance. Old enmities die hard in these uncivilized lands, however, and anyone who trusts a newly made ally is a fool. Mortals battle one another on religious and ethnic grounds. The children of Caine's hearts bum with vengeance for wrongs committed centuries ago and ache from jealousy, greedily desiring the riches and power of their neighbors. Dark passions overrule enlightened thought. Cainites who live beyond the embrace of the cities either band together for protection, as the Tremere do in their mighty chantry of Ceoris (see Chapter Six), or exist as many Tzimisce do — dominating several small settlements and villages as iron- fisted overlords. Such Cainites find themselves battling even more fiercely for the limited resources available. And so, while the veneer of civilization lies atop Eastern Europe, it never truly reaches within. Beneath the skin rests
the true barbarian heart, a savage soul as yet untamed and, perhaps, untamable.
Like many other regions, the territories here fell beneath the onslaught of the Roman legions. Always a civilizing force, the Romans built roads and established settlements in Eastern Europe just as they had in every other land they conquered. Why, then, is Eastern Europe so unknowable and savage?The answer is within the land itself.
Blessed with fertile plains, navigable rivers, abundant forests and majestic mountains, the lands of the East appear to be paradise. Beneath that rich beauty, however, lies a sickness that infects every inch of the land—even as it imbues the earth with a mystery and magic that drive successive waves of would-be conquerors to possess it at all costs.
Those who inhabit the lands seem to prosper for a while, but even the strongest eventually succumb to the miasma of corruption cloaking the earth. Somewhere beneath the Old Country's soil lies the midnight-black heart of the demon Kupala. Each beat of this mighty heart spews forth greater malignancy: hatred, bigotry, terror, unnatural desire, rage, corruption and infection.
As if the demon heart's presence alone did not subject the agonized earth to enough pollution, lesser minions (known as kupalas in honor of their master) overrun the region as well. Inhabiting certain trees, caves and natural formations, they reach out to strike at the unwary, infecting some, maiming others, gleefully killing when the mood takes them. It is not unknown for an entire village to fall prey to some unnamed plague or to simply disappear some dark night.
Not all depredations are committed by the region's bloodsuckers; even Cainites fear what they don't understand and have no way to fight- However, the Cainites feel safe within sheltering walls. Locked in secure havens, occupied with elaborate schemes and political maneuvering, consumed by thirst, Caine's childer play out their games of dominance. They simply prefer to ignore the creeping malignancy beyond the walls. It puts their minds to rest, and many believe it's safer that way.