The Magic Guild is one of the first Humanti Guilds, one of the first organizations that crossed clan bloodlines. It has become one of the most powerful, having a prestigeous place in history and becoming the “official” judges of way and order/chaos.
The Hand are assassins and spys of legend. Each member has super human abilities and skills. They have been known to breach the tighest security. They have been implicated in hundreds of deaths, though no proof of foul play has been found for many of them. However, things are not always what they seem… especially when an Orb is around.
The Silver Stars are the premiere healing organization in the Known World. They possess powerful healing magics and tangible medical skills. However, things are often not what they would seem, especially when a secret Orb of Corvus involved.
An Order created in ancient times built upon the concept of “Knowledge is Power”. They are the ultimate power.
Life is nothing more than a turn of the gaming wheel. Since “Fortune Serves the Bold,” the world should serve the members of this organization.
The Order of Eternal Flame was a great order of the past, dedicated to bringing law and justice to The Lands. The Dragon Knights brought a golden age to the Elder Times. Unfortunately, they were betrayed and that golden age has been lost.
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, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.