->''Film/HammerHorror was ''set'' in Uberwald, where [[RustproofBlood blood is bright red]] and [[GoryDiscretionShot there's never too much of it]].''
-->-- '''Creator/TerryPratchett''', ''The Art of Literature/{{Discworld}}''

->"It was a dreadful place; a land perpetually shrouded in gloom and mist, where abandoned castles glared down like hungry ogres on the dismal roads; where sullen villagers, some bearing obvious stigmata of mutation, mumbled dark warnings against going abroad by night; and where, one evening, a red-eyed, pale-faced nobleman studied us hungrily through the curtained window of his night-black coach, for all the world like a Bretonnian epicure inspecting his next meal... Of all the awful lands that I had then journeyed through, I have no hesitation in saying that Sylvania was easily the most dire."
-->-- ''Literature/GotrekAndFelix''

->Scrambling over the ridge of the Ramtops, widdershins from Lancre, one eventually arrives in a land of dark pine forests and jagged mountains, many of them topped with glowering castles whose architecture involves a disproportionate number of turrets and spires. Uberwald doesn't have much in the way of central authority, being ruled by an array of barons and margraves. A remarkable number of those aristocrats are . . . unusual. In fact, in the dark reaches of Uberwald, you may well encounter entire societies where not turning into a wolf at full moon is considered strange.\\
In other words, as the linguistically quick-witted may guess, Uberwald is the Discworld's equivalent of Transylvania, with a Germanic twist to the language. The architecture is Gothic, and so are the stories that happen there.
-->-- ''TabletopGame/DiscworldRolePlayingGame''

->On the eastern border of Stirland, in the cold shadow of the World's Edge Mountains, lies Sylvania, [[PlaceWorseThanDeath the most ill-famed region in the whole Empire]]. This land of bleak hills, blasted moorlands and mist-shrouded forests is shunned by all sensible travellers. No sane man would venture forth after dark and no questing knight or weary pilgrim ever accepts shelter within the brooding, rotting castles that tower over the land. By night, the brutish peasants of the squalid villages lock and bar their doors, and hang bundles of witchbane and daemonsroot over their windows, in the vain hope that these protective herbs will ward them against [[OurVampiresAreDifferent those who haunt the night]].
-->-- ''TabletopGame/{{Warhammer}}: Undead Army Book (4th edition)''
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