Synonymous with poverty…
Deviating from the normal guilds of thieves, merchants and mages, herein are presented the more novel and influential guilds of Falhath.
How is it built? One brick at a time lad. One brick at a time.
The Falani Tersk is an easy going and willing breed. They are very intelligent and eager to learn new tricks or commands. This along with their lovely silver color makes them highly desirable as circus horses as well as very accomplished hunter mounts and race horses.
“Listen to the Wind! Listen to Crackling Fire! Listen to the Groan of the Mountain! Listen to my Voice! Listen and you will See through the Smoke! See the Old Ways of our Forefathers! See the Glory of our Clan! See the Might of our Race!”
—Horn-Of-Plenty, Shaman of the Thorondrim Minotaurs, leading his people in the Khuugrad
While Ozea, Dreifach, and Sangreal are the main cities of Falhath, they are by no means the only ones.
The undisputed head of the Trinity, and the story of Falhath’s oldest folk hero.
Clad in a rainment of silver scale and chain armor, Ixia is the second member of the Trinity
The Axe has long been the symbol of Ozea, and the weapon of choice from the common footsoldier to the one time King.
Voz’s bones! It’s been a long time coming come in and welcome to Ozea me guest.
Hot fry here, get your hot fry!
Tell me what you eat and I’ll tell you what you are…
The sun has set upon the Kingdoms of Men, may night have mercy on us…
Opening Quote of the Book of the Black Rose
O Jewel of the Mountain, forget not your storied splendor…
quote of Darak One-Eye, historian
Isolated at the southern most portion of Falhath, the Bosques are considered bumpkins and backwater-folk
The Port that Tea Built
A dialog concerning the origins of the Trinitine Faith,
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