The principal axiom of the Curalon Hestaris, and the basis of all its teachings, is this:
"Inhale. Kill. Exhale."
There are dozens of copies of the Malachrite Falcon, most of which are decoys or mcguffins for a variety of cons and scams. Some of these Falcons are somewhat famous in their own rights, as they will have colorful histories.
The Society of Blood is much more benign than its name sounds. Initially created as an award of valor for common foot soldiers, membership. The SOBs decided to make themselves a benevolent, protective order for all veterans. They quickly united informally and, without any bloodshed or even any overt threats, restored order and fairness for veterans through all the lands.
The Blades of the Golden Sun are an organization lost to history. They are a legendary group, with songs, stories, and histories written about the exploits of their members. They were warriors of the famous Sun Swords, fighting against “The Evil”, the Dark Night.
The Malachrite Falcon is one of those legendary treasures that people have been hunting for over the centuries. The Malachrite Falcon has a legendary past, mixed with the Great Orders of the Past. The Malachrite Cult, The Sethians, the Kings of Cronos, and just some of the great orders who have owned it. The last public owners were the Blades of the GoldenSun, a legendary order of warriors from the ancient Imperial days. The Blades were either the greatest warriors for Good or the most famous scam artists depending on who is writing the history. When the Blades were “broken” by Emperor Coscious the Mad, their treasuries were looted. The Falcon was one of the treasures not accounted for. It was considered spirited away by some Blades.
Thus the world is kept safe by a few courtiers, silversmiths, woodsmen, and the occasional mage. All of them linked by the Phyrus (X)and a need to keep the world safe.
Who needs fantasy, when reality provides so much more?
This is a magical organization that will transcend any “guild” or school. The mages of this order will have access to different, almost clerical spells, in addition to the standard spells available to most.
The Order is about the past. It is a collection of people who love history, ancient times, and artifacts of the past. Only people who are really interested in past should be members. A passing interest is not enough. One must be dedicated to the past to be invited into this organization.
Via Humanitae - For Humans to live and thrive, non humans must be removed.
The Liberators of the Coin is primarily an organization Halflings devoted to (insert trickster/thieving/Halfling god). They pattern themselves after a myth of the god stealing gold coins from his brother on the evening of his wedding. The stolen gold was a part of the wedding ceremony and its absence meant that the ceremony could not proceed. The theft resulted in the trickster being able to marry his brother’s intended.
This organization began with a simple idea to protect the common people from the danger of magic run amok. Far too many disasters and atrocities were being commited by irresponcibe, evil, or mad wizards with no one to answer to but their own degraded consciences. But like so many things, it started off good and has shifted to the dark side.
Smeer was dragging a cart full of strings. Another cart of another strings, it was heavy, but probably the best job in these works for a weak boy. He brought it to the machine that weawed the ropes; the hands of older boys powered it. They were paid a few coppers more, but could barely move after a whole day of work. Smeer hoped to get older and stronger one day, to help his family out of poverty. Pulling the cart back through the yard, he suddenly noticed something. Does not that pebble look like… a coin? A glistening silver coin?! That would help for a few days! Looking around, he carefully picked it up, and hurried to work to stay unnoticed.
But something has noticed him.
The Golem moss is an amazing lifeform, and is able to survive in nearly any environment. Its evolutionary rate is far higher than any other creature on the planet, enabling them to adapt.
Dungeons, should make sense, in an ecological way. However, to have life, you need to have a physical place to use them. This expands upon the ecological dungeon, giving it a framework to exist in.
A very rare spider, combines a certain degree of inteligence and wickedness. Living in underground locales, it can survive for long periods of time without fresh food. Even a rat is good, but it likes bigger prey, even humanoids.
The horrible and hated Nail Worm lives in deep caves near the Evil Labyrinth. It is unknown, whether only one monster exists, or there are several. There was at least one guaranteed sighting in the Labyrinth itself.
We have all seen articles on how Dungeons don’t work. I’ve seen such articles before. But this time, an idea struck me: Why not do a dungeon that really works? Where creatures live their lives in harmony; just the right ecological way?
Located near the lush banks of the River Aloma, it is home to many of the most skills trackers and hunters in the region. This modestly sized town has a rather large standing militia due to the fact is it so close to the mountains and in such a hostile area.
Millenia ago the Gods changed how the mystical forces on the world were governed and used. No longer were the mortals able to pluck the power from the very air and use it. So they altered it, thinking the mortals were not clever enough to find a way to use it again. The God’s crystalized the magic and placed the power in the four elements of the world. Now mortals did indeed determine a way to use magic again, albeit at a much lower proficiency. Magic users now require a focus staff made of the very essence of magic. These crystal staves store the mystical energies required to cast spells, needing to be recharged over time. The magic users scribe, etch, or carve the spells symbols directly on the staves and focus the energy through the symbols.
This weapons has been made popular by several heroic and near mythical adventuring types that have served the Empire over the last three centuries. They are large, powerful weapons, with a distinctive look to them, suitable for Heroes and those who think they are heroes.
AutoMedon – A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
“It’s strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its’ workings or even if the damn thing is” – Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman