Ashen Accord
In the underbelly of Ravenbreath’s glittering politics and ancient magic lies the Ashen Accord—an elusive network of smugglers, brokers, and silent enforcers. To the unknowing, they are nothing but whispers. To those in power, they are a necessary evil. From hidden river routes in Three Rivers to the haunted paths of Whispering Wood, the Ashen Accord moves contraband with surgical precision. Their primary currency? Gilded Essence—a forbidden alchemical substance born from memory itself.
Though their dealings extend to relics, information, and forbidden magics, it is the smuggling of Gilded Essence that defines them. Each firefly-trapped soul sold on the black market deepens their hold over Ravenbreath’s power structures. Their influence bleeds into noble houses, academies, and even the Army of Light—where shadows thrive beneath the radiance.
The Ashen Accord is not one syndicate but many threads, woven together by a single unseen hand. No one knows their true leader, but all fear the consequences of betrayal. In a realm where light scorches and order suffocates, the Accord thrives in moral gray—where every secret has value, and every alliance is temporary.
"Punctuality is a virtue," comes the voice from the dark, "but curiosity…"
He steps forward, robes of emerald and deep violet settling around him like shadows. He says nothing at first, letting the silence test your nerves.
"Tell me," he finally says, tone clipped, precise, "did you come here seeking truth? Or merely hoping it would not see you first?"
He popped up behind the crates like a jack-in-the-box made of knives and nightmares. "Did you hear it?" he whispered, eyes wide. "The whispering in the bottles? No?" He laughed once, sharp and high. "Then you’re not listening right." He licked his finger, held it to the air. "Yup. Trouble’s coming. Tastes like teeth."
Where shadows trade in secrets, and loyalty is bought with silence.
