Domum Benevenisti
The chamber is lit only by guttering candlelight. The stone walls are old — Roman old — and the air tastes of dust and vitae. An elder sits across from you, his face half-shadowed, his voice steady as carved granite.
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“So… you have risen into the Long Night of Albion.
You wake in a land that pretends its war is finished.
The mortals believe the matter settled at Hastings. They think the crown now rests securely upon the brow of William of Normandy. They see Norman lords in Saxon halls and call it conquest completed.
They are wrong.
The true war has only just begun.”
“For centuries — longer than your mortal bloodline ever dreamed — this island, this sacred soil once named Avalon, bent knee to one sovereign of the night: Mithras.
He was no mere prince. He was a conqueror, god-king, and living law. Roman legions marched beneath his unseen gaze. Saxon kings rose and fell with his tolerance. The clans here did not simply rule — they served.
And now… he is gone.
Silent.
Absent.
Perhaps destroyed. Perhaps dreaming. Perhaps testing us.”
“Into that silence came ships.
Norman vessels. Flemish mercenaries. French bishops. And with them — Cainites. Ambitious. Refined. Ruthless. They followed William not for patriotism, but for opportunity. They smelled vacancy in the hierarchy of the damned, and they crossed the Channel to carve themselves fiefdoms of blood.
They call it the feudal order.
We call it invasion.”
“You will find three kinds of predators in this night.
First — the Faithful. Those who still cling to Mithras’ covenant. They speak of divine mandate, sacred soil, and ancient oaths. They remember Rome. They remember discipline. They believe Avalon belongs to them by right of blood and history.
Second — the Conclave of the Conqueror. Continental lords and shadowed bishops who believe that conquest makes legitimacy. They divide domains like spoils of war. They bring with them new hierarchies, new alliances with the Church, new ways of ruling that do not ask permission of ghosts.
And then…
There are the Unbound.
The hermits in barrows. The wanderers in forests. The Nosferatu beneath ruined cities. The sea-roving Gangrel. The heretics. The free ghouls who tasted vitae on Norman battlefields and now crave immortality. They swear to no banner — yet their allegiance, if earned, can change the balance of power.”
“And you?
You arrive as something new.
New blood is opportunity. New blood is a threat. You will be courted, tested, and manipulated. You will be offered protection — at a price. You will be told who your enemies are.
Do not believe any of them too quickly.”
“This is not a peaceful court. It is a land divided between sacred memory and ruthless ambition. Every boon binds you. Every oath chains you. Every alliance paints a target upon your back.
You will learn quickly that in 1068, loyalty is rarer than gold and more dangerous.
You will decide:
Will you defend the old order?
Will you rise with the conquerors?
Or will you carve your own dominion from the chaos?”
The elder leans forward, eyes glinting like banked coals.
“Remember this above all, fledgling —
In Albion, faith can make you powerful.
Conquest can make you wealthy.
But only cunning will let you survive.”
“Welcome to the Long Night.”
Albion Conquest 1068 AD
Dark Ages: The Long Night of Conquest (1068 AD)
Set in the shadowed years following the Norman invasion, this World of Darkness Vampire LARP unfolds in 1068, as the armies of William of Normandy tighten their grip on England. But steel and siegecraft are only the surface of the war. Beneath the mortal struggle lies a darker conquest — one waged by ambitious continental Kindred who have crossed the Channel to claim the night.
For centuries, the vampiric order of Albion stood beneath the silent dominion of Mithras, the ancient Ventrue whose absence has left a void no prince dares publicly acknowledge. With Mithras gone and his authority fractured, Norman, French, and other European Cainites move swiftly to seize domains, displace Saxon elders, and reshape the feudal order of the Damned.
Players step into a land in turmoil — where Saxon Kindred resist dispossession, Norman vampires claim divine right through conquest, the Church sharpens its influence, and the old pagan bloodlines whisper from barrows and standing stones. Alliances are fragile. Oaths are binding. Betrayal is eternal.
This once-a-month Dark Ages LARP, played in the Greater Orlando area, invites you to walk the blood-soaked courts of 11th-century Britain. Choose your lineage. Swear fealty — or break it. In the absence of a god-king, who shall rule the night?
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