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The Consortium

Faction Profile

Founded: 1334 AS

Governance: Ecclesial Authority Oversight, but possess an internal council known as “Circulus Illustrationis” – the Circle of Enlightenment

Spokesman/Public Information Officer/Figurehead: Traditionally an Archmage, position currently vacant

Primary Function/Purpose: Research and development of magical theory and practical use as it relates to defeating the Torment, as well as the licensing and registration of all persons capable of magical use within the Republic.

Estimated Numbers: Between one million to one and a half million (Republic-wide) excluding Opus Mundane forces

Republic Influence: Low

Republic Disposition: Subservient

Citizenry Reputation: Generally disdained but moderately respected, met with violence in some areas

Military Strength: Weak

Seat of Operations: Redholme, Eastern Baronies

Common Ranks/Titles:

  • Archmage
  • Scholasticus
  • Occisoris
  • Auditoris
  • Inceptor
  • Opus Mundane

Post-Torment State: Thriving

Presence in First Province: Low

 

Overview

Prior to the emergence of the Resolve within the lands of Vitaveus, the concept of magic – that is, the power of influencing matter using supernatural forces – was a considerably complex and sensitive topic. Ranging from being dismissed as outdated and illogical fantasy to being regarded with superstitious loathing and fear, a wide spectrum of outlooks upon magic existed. Within the modern day and age of 14th century Decusian culture, the idea that magic was a literal force that had existed at one time was considered archaic and outdated thinking by many progressives belonging to the Prelacy. To many of the laypeople of the Republic, magic was an ancient phenomenon of untold power, the utilization of which had been lost to the annals of history, and for good cause, as its powers were thought to bring misfortune to those whom partook in them. For those within the Clergy, from the lowliest Templar to the mightiest bureaucrat of the Ecclesial Authority, magic was understood to be an ancient scourge of disastrous proportions that, through zealous prejudice and unwavering devotion to Faith, had been successfully kept at bay within Vitaveus since the abandonment of the Birthplace due to the infamous Act of Blasphemy.

Regardless of personal and individual perceptions on the legitimacy of the existence of magic, one thing had been certain concerning the mystical phenomenon – the use and study of it had been wholly illegal within the Republic, was looked upon as a heretical concept that threatened human Ascendance, and was of course considered a crime punishable by death. This is not to say that scores of Decusians were put to the pyre for witchcraft in the modern era of the 14th century of Decusian society. For despite many within the Republic considering magic to have been a true and actual force at one time, the modern-day study, practice or even the witnessing of the arcane arts had been something that the vast majority of average Decusians would never experience. Before the widespread and rampant embrace of magical incantation in 14th century Vitaveus, even mere discussions of arcane topics and subjects were considered blasphemous in nature, regardless of societal rank and station, if not directly related to topics of faith – and specifically that of the Act of Blasphemy. Even to those of the Prelacy, discussions concerning magery and witchcraft often led to nothing good – despite the common perception that the arcane was the work of fantasy and a method of psychological control over the poor. Wealthy, bored aristocrats displaying a keen interest in anything esoteric would often result in an inquiry by the local Adjudicator, or in more troubling cases, an Inquisitor of the Faith. In some instances, these inquiries would result in simply a stern warning to the offender and their Parish in question, while in others, entire Parishes have been excommunicated and summarily executed for the arcane dabbling of even one influential family member. In regards to the laypersons of the Republic, the unfortunate, destitute souls that did find themselves in the rare circumstance of being accosted by a dutiful Adjudicator or a zealous Inquisitor for crimes of magical association in 14th century Vitaveus had more often than not simply been persons afflicted with diseases of the mind, body or soul – and of whose maladies were mistaken for witchery and association with magic and the occult. There are obviously exceptions to both instances, as limited and novice magical practice undoubtedly did exist prior to the coming of the Resolve, albeit in secretive cloisters and shadowy enclaves, far from the watchful gaze of the Church and state. When and if these clandestine practitioners were discovered by the Ecclesial Authority, they would unquestionably be wiped from the face of Eden with extreme prejudice and little fanfare, as reinforcing the notion that magical practice was even possible in the modern era was an idea the Authority had wished to keep suppressed at all costs.

Despite all of the above-mentioned influencing factors along with the Church’s impressive ability to keep knowledge and practice of the arcane out of the public for centuries, the modern-day “discovery” of the magical arts amongst the laymen of the Venerated Republic was inarguably and unequivocally the result of the Resolve’s campaign of propaganda and enlightenment in 1313. With the arrival of the Torment and the ensuing magical renaissance of the early 1313, seemingly overnight, magical study was suddenly embraced by hundreds of curious Prelacy, Citizens and Civilians alike. Clandestine gatherings, groups, and collaborations concerning the mystical arts began to coalesce throughout the Republic in staggering numbers, namely, to find uses of this rediscovered science to divine a cure to the Torment. Often driven by desperation than anything else, these students of the arcane risked much in order to emulate the awe-inspiring miracles they had witnessed the Resolve performing across the Republic. And while many of these neophyte practitioners lacked little in the realm of enthusiasm and desire to learn the powers the mysterious warlocks had shown such finesse in wielding, the ability for many to perform much more than parlor tricks and simple illusions had evaded them – the secrets of magic were undoubtedly more complex than being shown a few simple tricks by the traveling Resolvist warlocks. This realization had also brought forth a second and even more dubious revelation; for many, the ability to even perform the most novice of incantations and spells remained beyond their grasp. Surprisingly, the Ecclesial Authority had tolerated, at least to an extent, the clandestine dabbling into the arcane at the hands of its’ Citizenry, as many within the Authority had looked upon the Resolve and their mastery over esoteric knowledge a far more serious and grave threat. Each village and town the Resolve had visited, more and more of the Republic layperson had joined their mysterious and occult following. In mere months, displays of miracles and great acts of healing the Resolve had put on public display reached the ears of nearly every Templar and Inquisitor in the land, and discontent amongst the Church began to fervently stir. Coupled with the increasing threat of the Torment, there were many within the Church eager for bringing forth deliverance en masse.

For those within the Clergy, from the lowliest Templar to the mightiest bureaucrat of the Ecclesial Authority, magic was understood to be an ancient scourge of disastrous proportions that, through zealous prejudice and unwavering devotion to Faith, had been successfully kept at bay within Vitaveus since the abandonment of the Birthplace due to the infamous Act of Blasphemy.

It was not long before a spark would ignite the growing tinder pile that was the Torment-riddled Republic of Decus. In the months leading up to the Purge of the Witchkin, conditions within the Republic had been steadily deteriorating, the Torment having spread throughout the kingdom like wildfire, with nearly every major Municipality in the Eastern Baronies reporting cases of the wicked disease. Every Clerical engagement with the Resolve, of whom had now been methodically traveling westward across the Republic in a campaign of miracles and recruitment, had ended in failure on behalf of the Venerated Church. The magi, whom had seemingly been able to move to and from cities and territories in the dark of night with little trace, had been an elusive foe. The Resolve had been privy to weaknesses within the sprawling infrastructure of the Republic and its’ Ecclesial Authority, and group had been able to deftly maneuver the various villages and hamlets that were all but ignored by the monolithic Decusian war-machine. For it only took one of the powerful warlocks to influence an entire town of laypersons, and a single individual within a nation of a billion – one that, of course, could render themselves invisible through the use of magical powers – had proven to of been seemingly impossible to intercept by the Authority. Predictably, it did not take long for the Church’s ire concerning the actions of these mysterious magi to evolve into seething rage. Intent on bringing the Resolve presence within the Republic to a screeching halt, thousands of Church forces were stationed ahead of the predicted routes of the warlocks to stop them dead in their tracks. In the city of Allamarone, a bustling trade city seated in the heart of the Midlands, an entire Chapter of Church Templar, coupled with a full Clergy of Inquisitors had been stationed with orders to apprehend the magi. A contingent of nearly four hundred men strong, the Templar and Inquisitors represented some of the most well-trained and well-outfitted soldiers the Republic could offer. Through either circumstance or coincidence, the Resolve and their following had arrived at the Allamarone’s gates less than a week after the arrival of the Church forces, walking into a well-placed ambush of rather staggering odds. Pitted against a force of less than a dozen confirmed magi and a collection of less than two hundred of their followers, the four-hundred strong contingent of Church forces demanded the immediate surrender of the magi, under the threat of sure and certain death. What would follow would be the staggering defeat of the Church forces, of which was dubbed the “Anguish of Allamarone”. Many first-hand accounts can speak to the nearly incomprehensible defeat the Church forces had suffered in Allamarone, where, when the ashes had settled and the wails of the injured subsided, less than fifty men of the Cloth had been left alive.

As the Republic came to know the Resolve’s awesome and terrible power in defeating nearly two entire outfits of Church forces, the Ecclesial Authority would respond in kind; not only against that of the Resolve threat, but against any and all whom would dare even consider wielding the powers of magic and the arcane. On Paedrig’s Day of 1313, a formal decree issued by the Venerated Church’s Council of Bishops was made; magic was considered a blight against one’s own immortal soul, and any whom dared to practice it would be subjected to execution without trial or jury. In mere days, word of this decree traveled far and wide across the far reaches of Vitaveus. What would soon follow would be the literal slaughter of thousands of Republic citizens at the hands of both the Church, the Inquisition, and even the laypeople of the Republic itself. Those that were known to study the art of the arcane were slain in the streets and alleys of the Republic, often by the hands of their own neighbors. No consideration had been given to the fact that the average arcane user’s prowess over magic had been infantile at best; if one was known or even suspected of having dabbled in the arcane arts, their life was essentially forfeit. The Church, its’ Templar along with the fabled Inquisition Corps, now roiling with excitement and bloodlust over the declaration of a “crusade of this generation”, wasted no time in bringing forth “divine justice” to those that, only a week prior, had been the very people they had been oath-bound to protect and serve. Homes, farms, shops and property of suspected magic users, now simply referred to as “witches” by those of the Cloth, were burned to the ground. Those even thought to have been associated with witches –  witchkindred – were often executed in the streets as well. Only when time would permit, these collaborators would be treated with what would become customary treatment of those suspected of witchcraft: crucifixion or being burned at the stake. Literature concerning the arcane had been further deemed illegal and immoral by the marauding Church forces, and it was burned in great pyres whenever and wherever it was found, with those found in possession of it suffering a similar fate. This frenzied Inquisition against magic and the arcane had reached across every corner of the Republic, lasting for nearly two months, and was punctuated in many areas with civil unrest, rioting, rampant property damage, and other collateral crimes against humanity. This period of unrest would be come to known as the “Purge of the Witchkin”.

Following the Church’s inquisition against witchcraft, a considerable void was left within the Republic. The Resolve, now having seemingly vanished into the frontier lands of the Western Territories, proved to have had been an unassailable force of unfathomable power. The Torment continued to ravage the Republic, with every alchemical and apothecarial treatment devised by the Foundry and Apothecary Corps proving to be ineffective. Magical practice and even research had been deemed wholly heretical, despite that the only known cures to the Torment had been that of the Resolve’s incantations of protection and magical spells of healing. With the Republic burning, it had become begrudgingly and painfully aware to the Ecclesial Authority that an understanding of magic was vital to the survival of the Decusian peoples, not simply for divining a cure to the Torment, but out of fear of the Resolve one day returning to conquer and subjugate an unprepared Republic with the super-weapon of magic, of which no match to existed within the armories of the Decusian war machine. While it was an inarguable fact that, surreptitiously, select Chapters of Templar and cloisters of those within the Authority had been engaging in the state-sponsored study, documentation and perpetuation of magical practice for countless centuries, their prowess over the mystic arts were but a fraction of that seen on display by the Resolve. Furthermore, such work towards the mastery of the arcane arts could not be relegated to the shadows if any true progress was to be made – only a minute portion of the population had appeared to be “attuned” to be able to practically use and harness the powers of magic. Thus, the Church had turned to the millions of laypersons whom, just months prior, they had hunted with impunity for the mere speculation of practicing magic. A new bureaucracy would be required – one under the purview of the Church, but seemingly independent from its influence. This bureaucracy would walk the fine line between seeking salvation of the Decusian peoples form the threat of the Torment and Resolve while also keeping ever-in mind the lessons learned from the Act of Blasphemy, the infamous event that had been responsible for deeming magic heretical and a threat to the eternal salvation of mankind in the first place. A new faction would be thus be birthed, under the close supervision of the College of Bishops; a collaborative of enlightened minds whom would research, develop and perfect the magical arts; this collaborative would be come to known formally as the Consortium of Mages.

 

On Paedrig’s Day of 1313, a formal decree issued by the Venerated Church’s Council of Bishops was made; magic was considered a blight against one’s own immortal soul, and any whom dared to practice it would be subjected to execution without trial or jury.

Dubbed simply as the “Consortium”, this newly established faction was tasked with the duty of controlling and regulating all that was magic in the Republic. It was not until the creation of the Consortium that even the mere discussion of magic was no longer an executable offense within the Republic – and even then, stipulations were many. All magical study and practice had been relegated solely to that of the Ecclesial Authority, and outside of that, only to the Consortium of Mages. Under the watchful gaze of the Authority, Clergymen and Templar from Chapters across the Republic were joined with high ranking Foundry officers to seed the founding ranks of the fledging faction. By the hundreds, Foundry Stewards, Chamberlains and Constables had begun founding Consortium guild houses across the Republic. Church Templar and Clergy who had shown proficiency in understanding and utilizing the plethora of confiscated magic material from the “Purge” were also transferred into these sects and orders, helping to bolster them with their own knowledge and training. Prelacy Parishes were among the first to be invited to partake in founding the fledgling ranks of the faction. In time, Citizens and Civilians alike were ushered into Consortium guild houses across the Republic by the thousands, often at spear-point of the local Templar and Legion garrisons and subjected to proficiency testing and evaluation. Those Citizens whom showed aptitude towards the arcane arts were likewise invited to join the Consortium, often with the added incentive of Foundry-backed enlistment bonuses in the form of gold and land titles, while Civilians that were shown to be able to perform any sort of magical incantation were simply conscripted and forced into Consortium service. After these recruitment drives, statistics had been collected concerning the number of “Attuned” individuals in the Republic – that is, those capable of magical incantation – which had revealed that less than eight percent of tested individuals were even capable of spell craft proper.

Unsurprisingly, the Consortium had not been accepted with tolerance and understanding by the majority of Decusians. In the founding days, weeks and months of its’ creation, the faction had been made victim to countless criminal situations, with arsons and even the murder of its’ members commonplace. Such crimes against those of the arcane were commonplace in the early months and even years of the existence of the Consortium, due in part that general sentiment against the arcane had not changed significantly since the Purge – witches and their kin were still regarded as being responsible, at least in part, for the calamity that was the Torment. This was of course not to mention the canonical teachings of the Act of Blasphemy coupled with Republic law had deemed magical practice immoral and illegal for literal centuries. Additionally, of the Republic’s laypersons had still felt emboldened by what equated to the state-endorsed campaign of violence they had been encouraged to partake in against those of the arcane persuasion during the Purge of the Witchkin. And to add even to the proverbial fire had been the reports of a rather surprising number of Templar Chapters as well as Inquisition Clergies vowing, often in secret and within unofficial fraternal conspiracies, to continue their own zealous application of “moral justice” upon any and all found to be associated with magic and the arcane – even as the Ecclesial Authority itself worked to see the Consortium come to fruition. Predictably, this Republic-wide anti-mage sentiment would require extra-ordinary steps to be taken by the fledging faction in order to make any true progress in their mission to serve the Republic. Guild houses soon turned into garrisons, cold stone bricks replacing vulnerable wood and plaster. Private mercenary outfits, whose prejudices against the arcane arts could be conveniently forgotten with enough coin, found gainful employment under the Consortium – whose coffers were overfilling from having been bankrolled by the Foundry, the Ecclesial Authority, and numerous Prelacy families and Parishes. Clandestine settlements and even secretive universities had begun to emerge throughout the Eastern Baronies as the faction made efforts to cloister themselves away from the Municipalities and Church-Cities, opting for seclusion and safety from those who would do them harm. In parallel strides, the Republic Senate had slowly but successfully instituted legislation concerning protecting those of the Consortium, ensuring that crimes perpetrated against them carried equal weight as a Templar or Legionnaire – much to the chagrin of a populace whom had, for generations, been taught that magic was both immoral and illegal.

In under a year’s time, “Those of the Robes” as their members would come to be called, had begun to enjoy a tepid sense of safety in practicing their arts, mainly due to litigation and law instituted by the Authority, yet significant concessions would still be required no matter how safe and progressive they had perceived their surroundings to be. Hooded robes became a staple uniform for those of the Consortium, used to conceal the identity of the faction member when in public. Members of the Consortium would come to adopt aliases, sometimes as simple as numbers, to refer to themselves and their colleagues when outside of their guildhalls and campuses. Harassment at the hands of civil protection, the Decusian Templar and of course the Venerated Legion had been rampant and commonplace, and required that “Those of the Robes” carry with them proper licensing and documentation upon their person wherever and whenever they were out in public, lest find themselves arrested and imprisoned. Those of the Robes – especially those of the Prelacy – whom refused to abandon their lives of luxury within their Parishes in favor of resettling amongst Consortium communes would come to be forced to live “double-lives”, hiding their involvement with the faction out of fear of retribution from a rival Parish or an angry citizenry. Relegated to a caste below that of even the most indebted Civilian, those of the Consortium endured the scorn of nearly an entire Republic – yet for many, the pros had indeed outweighed the cons. Advancements in magical practice and theory were made in leaps and bounds within the early years of the faction. Combining Decusian ancient literature with modern-day metaphysical theory, Those of the Robes would quickly begin to trailblaze the understanding of magical practice and application. In less than a years’ time the first publications of magical science – referred to simply as Arcana – would be shared amongst scholars, engineers, philosophers and even priests across the entirety of the Republic. Soon to follow would be the standardization of using reagents, stabilization agents and the implementation of the written word as an anchoring element within the practice of spell craft proper. As understanding of Arcana and magic theory progressed, so did the ability to manifest more and more powerful incantations and manifestations of willpower. The Consortium of Mages would exist and thrive throughout the Republic in the years following, stretching from the old colonies of the End of the World to the Midlands in Western Vitaveus. They existed in innumerable Municipalities and even townships, often serving as the resident magical authorities of all that was arcane to the Church and Legion. The services the Consortium would provide to their Republic counter-parts were many, ranging from assistance in dealing with the ever-growing Torment threat to helping assist with the identification, hunting and capture of rogue Arcana students and practitioners whom would dare dabble in the mystical arts outside of the Consortium’s purview. As the Consortium came more and more into its’ own, so did it begin to mature away from its’ beginnings as a Foundry-seeded Church endeavor into a sophisticated fraternity of professional students and practitioners of the arcane arts. And with this maturity came a new sense of notoriety, for slowly, nearly unperceptively, tolerance of the faction would go from unbearable to merely begrudged. One of the most notable instances of this change in public opinion would take place in late 1317, where a Prodain-based Consortium chapter had gained significant notoriety for single-handedly defeating a Torment outbreak that had threatened an entire city – that of Sanctus Paulus, a modest trading hub located in the northern reaches of the province. Whilst the entire chapter of magi had eventually succumbed to death due exhaustion and exposure to the Torment, there had been numerous first-hand accounts of their valiance in the face of more than two dozen afflicted whom were close to bringing ruin to the downtown district of the under-policed city.

Prelacy Parishes were among the first to be invited to partake in founding the fledgling ranks of the faction. In time, Citizens and Civilians alike were ushered into Consortium guild houses across the Republic by the thousands, often at spear-point of the local Templar and Legion garrisons and subjected to proficiency testing and evaluation.

Following the accounts of the Consortium’s deeds in Sanctus Paulus, along with innumerable other reports of their contributions to the Republic in earnest, a wary Ecclesial Authority had bestowed upon the faction the right to self-governance through executive order in 1320. Whilst still under the ultimate purview and control of the Authority, the act had afforded the Consortium the right to an executor council as well as an official embassy presence within the senate-city of Tor. With this order came the establishment of what would become known as the “Circulus Illustrationis” – the Circle of Enlightenment – the ruling council of mages who would navigate the future of the faction from hence forth. And presiding over this circle would be a practitioner of considerable power, one that would serve as a truly public face of the Consortium, not relegated to the shrouded robes and aliases of the old, but one to proudly and publicly be recognized throughout the Republic as a practitioner of the arcane. This position, given the title of Archmage, would set into place a paradigm shift within the Republic as it related to Those of the Robe. With the advent of a public and proud “witch” of considerable arcane skill and proficiency, public consideration of Consortium magi began to evolve, with many of the layperson reconsidering the rampant and violent vitriol they espoused upon Those of the Robes. While still often treated as veritable garbage, Consortium members had begun to enjoy a fleeting and fledging sense of warry respect – and at times, fear – from many within the Republic due to the establishment of the Archmage position. As time progressed and the Torment became ever-more virulent within the Republic, the presiding Archmage of the Consortium would change frequently, most often than not through the countless and prevalent accidents that normally accompanied the fledgling exploration of Arcana. The two most recent Archmagi, however, would hold significant importance in the future direction of the Consortium. In early 1331, Archmage Achilles Hexx governed over the expansion of the Consortium and its varying arcane projects with a zeal unlike any of his predecessors. Some of these projects were made public to the oversight of the Church proper, such as the construction of the Consortium Embassy District within Tor, but many of them were kept segmented away from the Circulus Illustrationis itself. Rumors to Hexx’s machinations speak of grand and terrible secret experiments, the construction of peculiar and perplexing architectural designs, and even the establishment of a clandestine guildhall of immense size and grandeur – dubbed the Library – constructed deep beneath the City of Tor. While these rumors had never been truly substantiated, the fact that Hexx had suffered an untimely death, the circumstances of which are still shrouded in mystery, lend to the aura of enigmatic suspicion that surrounded his tenure.

Hexx’s successor, one William Zulank, would also stand out as a notable leader of the faction. Upon being bestowed the station of Archmage by the Circulus Illustrationis following Hexx’s untimely and mysterious death in 1340, Zulank sought to reform the rank and file of the Consortium, bestowing the ability of mage licensing and registering to individual chapters and guild houses as opposed to the central Consortium authority based in Redholme. He also saw to the creation of the Opus Mundane, which would be the evolution of the early mercenary groups under employ by the faction to ensure the security of its’ guild houses and enclaves. This sub-faction of the Consortium had been comprised entirely of non-mages – often referred to as Mundanes within the fraternity of the Consortium’s inner ranks – whom served the faction as martial manpower, augmenting Consortium chapters with sword and shield whenever and wherever the need arose. This adoption of military strength would no doubt prove instrumental in the survival of the faction in 1341, during what would be come to known as the Torian Civil Revolt. In the summer of 1341, Archmage Zulank had come to the defense of a small group of his Consortium magi who were being harassed by a returning Inquisition clergy within Tor. This lone action would quickly escalate to a heated melee between the magi and the Inquisitors that would result in the death of an Inquisitor at the hands of a Consortium magi. Upon the event being reported to the local Templar garrison, Warbishop Naum Alexandrov, whom had been personally present within the First Province at the time, led five of his garrisoned Inquisitor clergies – a total of nearly a thousand souls – to the Consortium Embassy District in Tor and demanded those responsible for the death of the Inquisitor. When Zulank had refused the Warbishop’s demands, Alexandrov had ordered the district to be besieged.  However, during this assault upon the Consortium’s most symbolic presence within the Republic, an unforeseen series of events had occurred – to the aid of the embattled Consortium had come none other than hundreds of resident Torians, along with the 701st Templar Chapter – a force of nearly two hundred strong – and what remained of the Venerated Legion’s IVth Infantry Division within Tor – nearly four hundred souls. In what would be one of the bloodiest and most calamitous battles ever fought within the streets of Tor, Warbishop Alexandrov and his Inquisition Clergies were forced to retreat from the city as to avoid staggering losses at the hands of a united Torian front. The Consortium’s victory would be bitter-sweet, however, as following the pitched battle, the city of Tor would be plunged into riots and civil disorder that would not be quelled for nearly two long weeks – of which would ultimately be blamed upon Consortium. Before formal charges and proceedings could be taken against Archmage Zulank and his Torian magi, however, calamity would strike Tor and the entirety of the First Province; as a result of the civil unrest and rioting, Tor would succumb to rampant outbreaks of the Torment, which would lead to the entire loss of the First Province proper. Upon the official quarantining of the First Province in 1342, the Consortium, following suit with the Church, Legion and Foundry, would relocate their seat of ambassadorial affairs to Redholme – home to the Circulus Illustrationis – and would remain without a named Archmage while the Church would engage in formal inquiries upon the faction and its’ actions within Tor, an investigation that lasts until the present day.

Rumors to Hexx’s machinations speak of grand and terrible secret experiments, the construction of peculiar and perplexing architectural designs, and even the establishment of a clandestine guildhall of immense size and grandeur – dubbed the Library – constructed deep beneath the City of Tor.

Standards, Colors and Guidons

 

 

The Consortium standard is that of an open book of sigils upon a background of a cloaked and hooded male. The standard was adopted around 1315 after the initial seeding of the Consortium had taken place through Republic-wide evaluation of Decusians for magical attunement. The numeral “VIII” is prominently displayed on the pages of the open book, a not-so subtle nod to the statistical fact that less than 8% of the Decusian population was found to be capable of magical incantation and spell craft. Two lit candles flank either side of the cloaked figure, signifying both the illumination gained from the pursuit of Arcana as well as an homage to traditional Decusian prayer candles, serving to remind one of the dangers of spell craft and the Act of Blasphemy.


The Consortium color is a signature blue in color hue, of which was issued upon the faction by the Ecclesial Authority for easy identification of Consortium members by clerical forces.

The Consortium’s most popular credence, “corvus oculum corvi non eruit”, of which translates to “a crow will not pull out the eye of another crow.” This is undoubtedly in reference to the ideal that the Consortium perpetuates complete solidarity amongst their ranks, of the consequences or condemnation, in order to assure the safety of its’ members in an unwelcoming and often times dangerous Republic.

The Consortium is often seen utilizing numerous different forms of guidons, which often prominently display the faction’s hallmark color in accentuated with colors of purple and green. Rarely are the Consortium colors flown in conjunction with that of the Republic red or white, as to avoid garnering the ire of the overly patriotic layperson.