"Protect us, oh holy one,
from the dangers of the night
may your smoke and ashes
to our souls with clarity ignite"
A charitable organization that might have a darker side.
On an Alien World where life last 100s of years and memories only a decade, a cult has arisen that defines truth only as what is under the sun.
They will serve up the Light to appease their dark gods.
100 Word Society
Some of the more notable organisations in the city.
An ancient mercenary regiment with a rich history, bound to a unique magic item. The regiment serves as family, faith and way of life to its soldiers.
A group of women specializing in communication with horses (both for themselves and others)
These spellcasters are the few who survived the great trials to become a being of both arcane and divine magic.
There were rumours spreading around the newspaper office about a "Press Gang" that would protect reporters. But only the owner and editor knew the true purpose of the Gang.
Most know the love that goblins have for mushrooms. Few know the lengths they will go to obtain their delicacy.
A vast, intricate complex of kilns and forges where the low-grade ore from the Thunderhead mines are turned into steel of unsurpassed quality. What are the secrets of the Acibus Foundry?
One of the Locastrian Regiments, footsoldiers with a reputation for savagery and a predilection for the meanest, dirtiest assignments…..
The Children of the Lord of Black Pleasures were once a cult to be feared. Nothing was too depraved, no torture to extreme. They might come back once more.
A people of systematic inhumanity - beyond bloodthirsty.
If you had an unusual amount of gold and silver at your disposal, where would you put it? Would the fear of the night stalkers run the risk of hiring to many inept gaurds to patrol your home to keep your coins safe? Would the gardener that you have known for years now look suspicious because he asked how your business was doing? Look no further, let the Coinlenders Guild protect your coins and wipe your worries away.
- Coinlenders Guild Advertizment.
From the bone dusted hills of Aadda, to the ocean foam of the pearly bay.
The children of the sweet legions frolic in the streets by day.
At night their games are different, and guards whisper of their skills and feats.
They say that nothing is safe, or too large, for the legions of the Knuckle Sweets.
- A song sung around taverns to honor the children gang.
Assassins are always there to be had, for a price. Sometimes, those wishing to hire assassins for very little find their way to the Thrillkill Society.
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, reading old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.