In Harmony everything runs like clockwork. Harmony as it is known today was merely a small crossroads just a couple of decades ago. A meeting point of caravans travelling between the five domains. Yet over the years it has been built up, piece by piece, brick by brick, into a thriving metropolis in its own right. As it was always a meeting point of different cultures, heterogeneity has been literally built into the city. Streetlights are powered by electricity or magic or glowing crystals. Buildings are reinforced with runes, parapets and polished chrome. The city is a mesh of styles, technology and attitudes with aspects taken from all areas of the continent. Yet despite the chaos, the markets all operate in sync, the public transport is reliable and the town Mayor has a very strict schedule dictating which local Villain is kidnapping them this week. The Villains found in Harmony tend to be small fry, more comfortable with the melange of genre than the typically influential Villains are. Citizens here find themselves as much a victim of the Villains as in any other domain, perhaps more so. However they find some small comfort in the knowledge that their inevitable mugging or murder will happen with at least fifteen working days notice.

In the centre of the city, atop a gentle hill with a view of the entire domain, sits The Club. The Club is a pristine complex of white marble buildings with manicured gardens surrounding its network of quiet pathways and fountains. It is the place for the great and powerful of Nequam to gather and scheme. Only those judged prestigious enough in their genre are granted invitations to attend the fortnightly events and there are rumours that the most reputable Villains have their own special privileges. The décor inside the central tiered palace is timeless; red velvet thrones never go out of style. Yet the five peripheral reception complexes are more in tune with their respective genres, all set up to receive distinguished guests via magic, flight or carriage.

The person who decides who is invited, who is favoured, and what the rules are here, is the one who created this place, The Owner. Sources cannot agree on exactly what this elusive Owner looks like. Some say he is an imposing, bare-chested man whose eyes contain vortexes of universes beyond understanding, some report sightings of a skeletal lich dressed in robes pulsating with runes of pure magic, whilst yet others insist the Owner is a sublimely elegant vampire queen that can captivate the minds of the city with a whisper.

The only certain thing is that you are not qualified to know, confined as you are to the subterranean service tunnels and storage rooms which lie beneath the palace, where servants and Underlings are utilised to keep their masters above content. Luckily, some of these rooms are big enough to organise impromptu meetings.