Scion History

In the time before memory, when the mountains still walked and the stars had not yet chosen their places in the sky, the gods breathed life into a race unlike any other. Born from divine thought and shaped by sacred hands, this race was not made merely to live; it was made to lead. To inherit. To ascend. These were the Scions, the Children of Purpose, destined to one day walk in the footsteps of the Forsworn, the gods who made them. Their bodies were woven from the threads of Carcer itself, their minds attuned to magic like a second breath. The Scions did not question their place in the world. They knew their creators. They knew their path.

But even divinity cannot tame the currents of fate.

The world turned. Wars were fought. And in a single, fateful moment, one drenched in blood and shadow, unity was forever broken. A great Sundering split the Scions in two. One branch remained in the light, holding fast to prophecy and divine calling. The other, cast out and condemned, became the Forsaken, branded traitors for an act of mercy and bound forever by exile and oath.

Yet the Scions and Forsaken remain twin flames sparked from the same divine ember. Two reflections in a shattered mirror, distorted, dissonant, and yet irrevocably linked. One cloaks itself in the grandeur of purpose; the other in the scars of survival. One sees a destiny ordained, the other a truth denied. Between them lies a rift older than nations, a wound that bleeds not only memory, but meaning.

This guide is not merely a tale of angels and outcasts. It is a chronicle of a divine legacy fractured. Of promises broken and faith reshaped. Of a people torn between light and shadow, still searching, still striving, for what was lost at the edge of a god's whisper.

Divine Origins

The Divine Legacy of the Scions and Forsaken

Before time had voice, and before the stars knew their names, the world of Carcer stirred in silence. It was a place of raw essence and untamed power, where stone and sky danced with fire and tide in chaotic union. From this formless beauty, the gods descended. They came not as kings or conquerors, but as creators, shapers of what would be.

With their breath, they carved mountains. With their fingers, they etched rivers. And from their will, they wove a race to carry their legacy forward. They were called the Forsworn, beings of majesty and thought, created not to serve but to understand. They were the first to speak with magic, to name the winds, and to draw the first runes in the soil of the world. Gifted with eternal life and limitless curiosity, the Forsworn were perfect vessels of wisdom. They built the Shining Cities, forged the schools of magic, and shaped the heavens with their deeds.

Yet knowledge alone could not tend to a world. To focus their divine task, the Forsworn shaped a second people: the Dworn, born of earth and strength. While the Forsworn reached ever higher in the towers of thought and spellcraft, the Dworn carved roads, tilled fields, raised walls, and gave substance to vision. With lifespans measured in centuries, they became craftsmen and builders of such mastery that even the Forsworn paused to admire their works. For a time, this balance endured: thought and labour, master and servant.

But the Forsworn, withdrawn from the world they were meant to guide, grew distant. Their vision turned inward, and so they sought successors. Beings who could walk freely upon Carcer, who could dream, feel, and one day rule in their image.

Thus, the Scions were created.

Wrought from the same essence as their creators, but with hearts that beat in rhythm with the world, the Scions were gifted with brilliance and brevity. Mortal in years but divine in spark, they were unlike their forebears. They did not retreat into towers. They stepped into the world, curious and bright-eyed, carrying the light of legacy across the land.

But legacy is a fragile thing.

As the Scions wandered, they found the Dworn not as servants but as free people. The old oaths, once sacred, had faded into dust. The Scions, raised on tales of divine inheritance, expected reverence. The Dworn, shaped by generations of labour and self-reliance, offered none. What began as tension became command. Command turned to resistance. Resistance to punishment. Punishment to war.

The Shining Cities, unshaken for an age, began to fracture.

And in the heart of this storm, a choice was made. Faced with bloodshed, some Scions chose mercy over obedience. They stepped between blade and victim. They defied the will of their kin.

For this act of mercy, they were cast out.

Branded traitors. Their names struck from record. Their bloodlines cursed. Their oaths erased. Never again would they be welcomed. Never again would they be trusted.

They became the Forsaken.

And so, from a single divine race, the world was given two. One walks still in the light of prophecy, cloaked in duty and burdened by expectation. The other survives in the shadows, guided by oaths, hardened by exile, and shaped by a truth too dangerous to be remembered.

The gods no longer walk among them, but their echo remains in every whispered spell and every broken vow.

The Sundering

The war that shattered a people did not begin with blades. It began with questions, and with magic that was never meant to be known.

In the Age of Awakening, a strange new force stirred beyond the borders of the Shining Cities. It was magic, but not as the Forsworn had come to understand it. It shifted with each invocation, refused structure, and seemed to mock the very laws of essence. To the Forsworn, who had long mastered the elemental powers of the world, this chaos was both a puzzle and a temptation.

They sent their finest scholars and magi to study it. Drawn ever deeper into its mysteries, they found the magic did not yield to inquiry. Yet the longer they remained, the more they changed. Slowly, and then all at once. Their forms twisted. Their minds bent beneath unseen pressure. Their features, once marble-like and serene, became warped. Their once-radiant voices echoed with something hollow. These were the first of the Scorned, Forsworn transformed by magic into something other.

The changes did not stop with them. The Dworn who had laboured in these distant camps were also touched by the unknown. Some grew smaller and sharper, with wiry limbs and clever fingers. Others swelled with strength and lost clarity, becoming hulking warriors of fire and fury. Together, these transformed descendants would eventually become the Orukar, an unintended people born from magic misunderstood.

Back in the Shining Cities, the Forsworn debated. Word of these transformations reached them slowly, wrapped in fear and confusion. Some called them abominations, a danger to all creation. Others, recalling ancient kinship, called for mercy. No final consensus was reached, but eventually it was decided that something must be done, and the Scions were sent.

Two armies left the Shining Cities to confront this new threat.

The first moved in secret, quiet, grieving, hopeful. They sought to find their twisted kin and determine if anything could be salvaged. When they arrived, they found the Scorned changed beyond recognition. Their skin was marred. Their voices strange. And yet, they remembered. They mourned what they had lost. The Scions who witnessed this did not strike. They watched. They wept.

The second army arrived later. Their orders were clear. They came not to speak, but to cleanse. Cloaked in divine law, they descended without warning. They saw only a contagion and moved to cut it out. Marching beneath banners of fire and law, they descended with fury. They did not ask questions. They did not offer peace. They struck without warning, intending to end what they saw as an abomination.

But they had misjudged the strength of those they came to kill.

The Scorned had allies. The Orukar had grown and multiplied in the shadows, hardened by exile and survival. Armed with crude weapons and simple armour, they possessed a determination no scholar could extinguish. The land itself bore the scars of their presence. What the Scions expected to be a purge became a battlefield. What they expected to be an execution became a war.

Watching from afar, the first army made its choice. They raised shields against their own kin. They fought to protect the Scorned and to give the Orukar time to flee. In doing so, they broke the only law the Scions held sacred. They turned against their destiny.

The battle ended, but the war did not.

When the dust settled, the battlefield was silent. The Scions who had shown mercy had struck down their own kin. Their names were ash. Their oaths shattered. They had defied their destiny to protect those their people now called monsters.

They fled into shadow, unable to return, and thus they became the Forsaken.

Branded as traitors, they vanished into the wilds. Their story was rewritten as treachery. Their mercy twisted into betrayal. They swore new oaths: to protect each other, to never beg forgiveness, and to never strike second.

The Scorned, wounded and few, withdrew into secrecy. They left the Orukar to forge their own destiny. Freed from the conflict that had created them, the Orukar spread across Carcer, establishing tribes and settlements throughout its hills, forests, mountains, and plains.

In the Shining Cities, silence reigned. No record of the battle. No mention of the mercy. Only a verdict: the Scorned were to be feared, the Orukar were an error beyond redemption, and the Forsaken were a warning. The magic that started it all became a whisper that still echoes in forbidden halls, too dangerous to name.

The Sundering was not a war. It was a wound.

One people, divided. One choice, never forgiven.

And the world has never been the same.

The Scions

"Others may call us angels or elves, but such words only diminish us. We are the Scions. We were made to inherit this world."

This is no boast. It is not hubris, nor delusion. It is simply the truth they were given at birth. The Scions were designed to be the heirs of Carcer, destined to rise when the gods stepped away. Their creators wove into them the flame of legacy and the burden of purpose. They were born to lead, to protect, to understand the mysteries of the world, and preserve its harmony.

They were not told to find meaning. They are meaning, carved from it like stone from a mountain.

From the moment of their first breath, every Scion knows this truth: they must be worthy. Not merely excellent, not merely good, but worthy of godhood. They are to inherit the legacy of the Forsworn, to take the mantle of the divine. If they fail, the next age may never come.

This belief is not confined to the Scions alone. It echoes through the laws of kingdoms, the sermons of priests, the writings of scholars, and the policies of governments. The world expects the Scions to be perfect, and most of them believe they must be.

But belief does not make it so.

The Scions are not Forsworn. They are mortal, despite the spark of the divine within them. They bleed. They break. They falter beneath the weight of impossible expectations. For every Scion who becomes a legend, there are hundreds who quietly collapse under the pressure.

Some retreat into the sanctuaries of routine and ritual, maintaining a world they can no longer bear to shape. These become the bureaucrats, the keepers of scrolls and systems. Others vanish entirely, seeking solace in isolation where they are no longer required to save the world, only to tend to their own small corner of it.

This paradox lies at the heart of the Scion people. They are entrusted with the future of Carcer, yet so many have detached from the present. They speak of stewardship but remain distant from those they are meant to guide. Some watch the stars and speak of prophecy while the city beneath them burns. Others guard their districts with meticulous care, yet fail to see the wider world crumbling around them.

They are obsessed with preserving the world, even as they struggle to remain part of it.

They are mortals pretending to be gods.

And often failing.

Yet for all their faults, their brilliance cannot be denied. The Scions are masters of magic, philosophy, and science. There is no discipline in which their knowledge has not set the standard, and no battlefield where a Scion's blade does not bring precision and resolve. Their loyalty, once given, is unshakable. Their traditions are ironclad.

The world may mock their detachment or curse their pride, but when catastrophe looms, it is still the Scions who are called. Because despite everything, the fate of the world may very well rest upon their shoulders.

And so they endure.

Some rise. Some fall. Some vanish into quiet lives of duty. But all live beneath the same truth: they must be worthy.

Because one day, the gods will not return.

And on that day, the world will look to the Scions.

The Orders of the Scions

Though united in purpose, the Scions are not united in method. The gods left no single path, only a legacy. From that legacy, each Scion must choose how best to walk the path set before them.

Thus were the Orders born.

Each Order is more than an affiliation. It is a philosophy, a discipline, and a lens through which the divine burden is viewed and shaped. While all Scions share blood and essence, their Orders are the chosen families of their spirit—sanctuaries of thought and pillars of belief.

The Orders do not interfere with one another. By ancient law and sacred tradition, no Order may raise arms against another. Yet within this peace, quiet rivalries bloom. Alliances form and shift like constellations in a turning sky. Though they are bound by the same birthright, the Scions do not always agree on what that birthright demands.

In these Orders lies the soul of the Scions: many voices speaking one truth in many tongues.

Order of Harmony

The stewards of structure and the governors of civilisation. These Scions live in the Shining Cities of their forebears, where marble towers reach for the heavens and the breath of the divine lingers in every corridor. They are politicians, strategists, philosophers, and reformers. They see the world not as it is, but as it could be, and seek to shape it through law, diplomacy, and design.

They are also accused of coldness. Their vision is vast, but their compassion often feels distant. To the Order of Harmony, the needs of the many truly outweigh the needs of the few. The fire must be allowed to burn if it will warm the greater world, and if a village must be forgotten to preserve a kingdom, so be it. Yet without their tireless planning, countless disasters would have bloomed. Their bureaucracy is dense but precise, their records vast but invaluable, and their failures, when they occur, are studied more harshly than any outsider would dare.

Order of Urbanites

At home in taverns and bustling markets as much as their kin are in parliaments and ivory towers, the Urbanite Scions walk among the common folk. They trade coin as easily as they trade favours, slipping between roles with ease as merchants, masons, thieves, and healers. They are not beloved by the nobility, but they are respected in every alleyway and square they pass through.

To the Urbanites, divine destiny is not sealed in ancient halls or etched in holy rites. It lives in the eyes of the hungry, the wounded, and the forgotten. Their compassion is rarely flowery, often practical, and their anger is slow to rise but difficult to extinguish. They understand the weight of daily survival and act to ease that burden wherever they can.

In recent ages, they have grown weary of divine silence. Though they would never speak of rebellion aloud, their patience wears thinner with each passing generation. The Urbanites believe that if the gods do not return to fulfil their promises, then perhaps they should be made to answer for their absence.

Order of Masks

Survivors. Paranoids. Warriors.

The Order of Masks has been broken and rebuilt more times than any other Scion Order. Scarred by betrayal and targeted by enemies both remembered and forgotten, they have become masters of secrecy and preparation. They believe that the fall of the world is not a question of if, but when, and when the final age crumbles into dust, they will be the ones who endure.

Their most defining trait is the mask. Every initiate crafts their own, shaped by vision, trauma, or prophecy. To the outside world, the mask is not an ornament—it is the person. Names are hidden. Faces are sacred. To reveal one's true visage is an act of utmost trust, reserved only for moments of binding oaths or deep kinship. Some wear the same mask for decades. Others change them like the seasons, adopting new identities with each chapter of life.

They specialise in guerrilla warfare, sabotage, and espionage. Their magic is often subtle, focused on concealment, disruption, and escape. Their strongholds are hidden in forgotten places, built beneath ruins or behind enchanted veils. Every member is expected to know how to disappear without a trace and survive alone if necessary.

Though they do not seek power or rulership, they prepare for the aftermath. They collect histories others would burn. They preserve the bloodlines of beasts and Scions alike. They map the ley lines and mark the fading paths of ancient power. When all others fall, the Masks intend to be the last whisper in the silence, carrying the memory of the world into whatever comes next.

Order of Nomads

Wanderers, sailors, and seekers of wonder. The Nomads believe the world is too vast, too wild, and too alive to ever be ruled from a throne or studied from a tower. They are drawn not to dominion, but to discovery. To them, every horizon is a question, and every journey a prayer.

They travel by ship, both upon the sea and through the sky. Their vessels, crafted with care and often enchanted, are extensions of their homes and hearts. Some sail the ocean tides in elegant longships with folding masts and rune-carved keels. Others drift through the skies aboard soaring skycraft, guided by celestial charts and winds of magic.

Nomads delve into forgotten ruins and scale mountains untouched since the first shaping of Carcer. They brave the depths of ancient jungles, traverse volcanic plains, and step first onto newly born islands rising from the sea. They chart stars yet unnamed, sketch maps of ever-shifting coastlines, and document the secrets left buried by time.

Wherever they go, the Nomads are often welcomed. They bring stories, supplies, and news of distant places. They trade remedies for plagues, advice for rulers, or warnings of dangers glimpsed in their travels. Their loyalty lies with motion itself. Their allegiance is to wonder. They cannot be caged by laws nor confined by borders.

They say the gods scattered secrets across the face of the world like seeds upon the wind. The Nomads have taken it upon themselves to find every last one, not for power, but for the joy of knowing. They will not rest, for every map is unfinished and every answer leads to another question.

Order of Burials

Grave tenders and guardians of memory, the Order of Burials carries the weight of endings and the sacred responsibility of remembrance. They are the keepers of the Forsworn's final resting places, protectors of the graves where power and prophecy sleep in silence. It is they who perform the ancient rites, who speak the names that must never be forgotten, and who ensure the world does not bury its own history too deeply.

Their duty is both spiritual and scholarly. They are theologians and engineers, architects of mausoleums and scholars of soulcraft. Their catacombs are not only tombs, but temples of knowledge. Within them lie relics, forbidden tomes, and the last echoes of forgotten truths. Few outside the Order know how deep their vaults run or what is entombed within them.

Among the Scions, they are seen as sombre, distant, and unsettling. They walk softly, speak rarely, and carry with them the stillness of the grave. Yet their purpose is vital. They believe that forgetting the dead is the first step towards repeating their mistakes, and that only by honouring those who came before can the living be prepared for what comes next.

They are also the most vigilant in preparing for the return of the Forsworn. Should the gods' chosen walk among mortals once more, the Burials will be ready, with their names remembered, their paths cleared, and their legacies intact.

To serve in the Order of Burials is to live among ghosts. But it is also to walk with purpose, knowing that while others look to the future, it is your sacred task to guard the past.

Order of Eternal War

They were forged for a war long ended, a war so thoroughly erased from history that even its enemy has no name. Yet they endure.

The Scions of this Order are warriors without rest. They believe that the ancient threat will return, or worse, that it never truly left. While others build, rule, or explore, the Eternal War trains. In silence. In shadow. With discipline honed sharper than any blade. Their rituals are martial, their prayers spoken through drills and sparring rings. Every movement is memory. Every weapon a promise.

To outsiders, they are relics of a forgotten age, zealots guarding against ghosts. Their presence is often questioned. Their funding debated. Yet they remain. Even among the Scions, there are those who understand the price of unpreparedness.

It was a Forsworn who once said:

"To keep them and not need them is a waste. To disband them and find we did need them is a tragedy Carcer would not survive."

So they wait. On mountaintops and deep within fortress monasteries. At the edge of the known world. Watching for signs, reading omens, and listening for the silence that always comes before the storm.

They do not seek power.

They seek readiness.

Because someone must.

Faith and Beliefs

"We do not worship in hope. We remember in reverence."

The Scions are unlike any other race. They have no need to invent gods, for they have met them. The Forsworn, their creators, once walked the world in luminous form. They spoke. They taught. They made mistakes. They triumphed. They died.

In their wake, they left a question the Scions have never fully answered: were they gods made mortal, or mortals who carried divinity like a flame? From this question, two great currents of belief have emerged—not in opposition, but in tension. Scions do not wage war over faith. Instead, they study it, refine it, and walk its many paths with a scholar's gaze and a pilgrim's heart.

The Forsworn Divinity

This is the oldest and most widely held belief. It teaches that the Forsworn were the physical vessels of divine beings, shells through which the gods could walk the world and shape it.

Their deaths are not tragedies, but fulfilments of design. Each Forsworn returns to the Divine Realm once their work is complete, and their mortal end marks a lesson finished. Those who remain are to be obeyed without question, for every word they speak is a ripple from the divine source.

The faithful divide the gods into two houses.

The Docs are the gods of action, healing, growth, knowledge, and will. They crafted the Scions and taught them how to act in the world. To worship a Doc is to live their virtue.

The Engis are the gods of form, nature, and structure. They forged the world itself: the forests, the oceans, the beasts, and the magics. To honour them is to preserve what they have made.

Temples dedicated to both are common throughout Scion cities. Prayers are acts of duty: clean work, perfect craft, just governance, and bold protection. A well-forged sword or a finely penned law is considered a hymn.

The Inheritance of the Unspoken

More recent, more controversial, and growing steadily.

This belief does not deny the divinity of the Forsworn, but neither does it consider them the final answer. Instead, it teaches that the Forsworn were merely caretakers, stewards of a truth too vast to be confined within their vision. Beneath the roots of the world, beneath magic itself, lies something older. Something deeper. Something that has no name.

This force is not elemental. It is not good or evil. It defies classification. It shifts with every invocation, resists structure, and seems to rewrite the rules of reality each time it is called upon. Yet it is undeniably real. Within its strangeness, followers of this belief say, lies the first secret: the hidden shape of the cosmos.

To seek this force is to walk the Path of Pilgrimage. Those who follow it must earn their insights. They retrace ancient migrations, unlock forgotten tombs, and endure visions that fracture the self. The most devoted live in exile, often drawn to ruins where the veil between what is known and what is not grows thin.

Among them, it is whispered that every Scion carries a shard of this mystery within their soul—not as a flaw, but as a question. A spark left behind by a god that was never named.

This belief is permitted, but rarely welcomed. Some fear what its seekers might discover. Others fear what they might become.

Sacraments and Practice

Scion religious practice is less about temples and more about embodiment. One does not simply pray to a god of stone; one builds. One does not worship the sea through words; one sails.

Their shrines are often integrated into daily life: a shelf in a stonemason's home, a candle in a ship's prow, or a polished mirror in a scholar's study. Ritual is woven into ordinary tasks. Ceremonies mark not only birth and death, but also the mastery of a craft, the laying of a foundation, and the choice of a vocation.

Faith is legacy.

And legacy is divine.

Appearance

Height and Build

Scions stand between 170 cm and 190 cm tall, with naturally elegant proportions and graceful movements. Their physiques are lean rather than muscular, favouring agility, balance, and endurance over brute strength. Even those who dedicate their lives to warfare rarely possess the broad frames common among the Orukar or Dworn. Instead, their strength is subtle, carried with effortless poise.

Many outsiders describe Scions as appearing almost weightless. Every movement feels deliberate, every step measured, every gesture refined. Whether standing motionless or crossing a battlefield, they possess an innate sense of composure that sets them apart from other races.

Skin and Complexion

Scion skin ranges from pale ivory through warm olive to deep bronze, though all possess an unusually smooth complexion untouched by blemish or age. Regardless of colour, their skin often carries a faint, almost imperceptible luminescence, as though touched by starlight. This subtle radiance is most noticeable beneath moonlight or in places steeped in magic.

The Forsaken share this same heritage, though centuries of exile and hardship have altered their appearance in ways unique to their own people.

Hair

Hair is one of the defining features of the Scions. It grows exceptionally quickly, often reaching extraordinary lengths if left uncut, and is regarded as both a symbol of heritage and a form of personal expression. Colours range across natural shades of black, brown, blonde, silver, and white, while rare individuals are born with subtle hues of blue, violet, or crimson that reflect their deep connection to magic.

Hairstyles vary greatly between the Orders. Some favour elaborate braids and ceremonial bindings, while others leave their hair loose as a symbol of freedom or devotion. Cutting one's hair is often associated with significant life events, such as mourning, pilgrimage, or the taking of sacred vows.

Eyes

The eyes of a Scion are perhaps their most striking feature. Bright, clear, and unusually expressive, they often seem to catch and reflect light in unnatural ways. Gold, silver, emerald, sapphire, and violet are all common eye colours, while some individuals possess irises flecked with shimmering patterns that appear almost celestial.

Many believe the eyes reveal the strength of the divine spark carried within every Scion, though scholars argue this is simply another expression of their unique physiology.

Ears

Like their Forsaken kin, Scions possess long, elegantly tapered ears that immediately distinguish them from Humans and the Orukar. Their shape varies subtly between individuals, with some tapering gently while others extend into dramatic points.

To the Scions, the ears are a mark of divine lineage rather than beauty alone. Jewellery, rings, chains, and decorative cuffs are commonly worn, often denoting family lineage, Order, achievements, or religious devotion.

Otherworldly Elements

Beyond their obvious physical features, there is something undeniably unnatural about the Scions. They seem to belong to the world while remaining slightly apart from it. Animals often react calmly in their presence. Magic flows around them with unusual ease. Even their voices possess a clarity and resonance that many find difficult to describe.

These qualities cannot easily be measured, yet they have shaped countless legends. Across Carcer, many believe it is impossible to mistake a Scion once you have truly met one.

Ageing and Immortality

Despite their divine origins, Scions are not immortal. They age slowly compared to Humans, often living for several centuries, but eventually succumb to time like any other mortal race.

Their youth endures for much of their lives. A Scion may appear little older at two hundred years of age than they did at fifty, only showing the signs of age during the latter portion of their lifespan. This long life grants them remarkable patience and perspective, though it can also distance them from the shorter-lived peoples of Carcer.

To many Scions, death is not something to fear. It is simply another step towards fulfilling the legacy entrusted to them by the Forsworn.

Fashion

Cultural Philosophy of Dress

To the Scions, clothing is never merely practical. Every garment tells a story, reflects a belief, or honours a tradition. Fashion is viewed as an extension of identity, with colours, fabrics, and adornments chosen to communicate not wealth, but purpose. A Scion's attire often reveals their Order, vocation, achievements, or personal philosophy long before they speak.

Despite these differences, certain principles remain universal. Scion clothing favours flowing lines, layered fabrics, and elegant tailoring that allows freedom of movement. Robes, cloaks, fitted tunics, and long coats are common, often embroidered with intricate patterns inspired by nature, celestial bodies, or ancient runes. Precious metals and gemstones are worn sparingly, valued more for symbolism than extravagance.

Order of Harmony

Members of the Order of Harmony favour refined, formal clothing that reflects discipline and authority. Long ceremonial robes, tailored coats, and flowing capes are common, often decorated with gold thread and geometric embroidery representing order and balance. Their colours tend towards white, ivory, royal blue, and gold, reinforcing their connection to governance and divine stewardship.

To them, appearance is a reflection of responsibility. A poorly maintained uniform is seen as a failure of discipline, while immaculate presentation demonstrates respect for both oneself and those being served.

Order of Urbanites

Urbanites dress for practicality without abandoning elegance. Their clothing is well made but functional, suited to moving easily through busy streets, workshops, and marketplaces. Earthy colours, leather accessories, layered garments, and durable fabrics are common, allowing them to blend comfortably among the people they serve.

Unlike many other Orders, Urbanites often adopt local fashions from the settlements they visit, believing that understanding a people begins with living as they do. It is not uncommon to see an Urbanite wearing garments influenced by Human, Dworn, or even Orukar cultures alongside traditional Scion craftsmanship.

Order of Masks

No Order possesses a more recognisable style than the Masks. Every member wears a crafted mask, each unique to its owner and deeply symbolic. Some are carved from polished wood, others forged from metal, shaped from porcelain, or woven from enchanted fibres. The mask becomes their public identity, while the face beneath is revealed only to those they trust completely.

Their clothing favours muted colours, layered cloaks, fitted leathers, and garments designed for concealment and mobility. Deep greys, blacks, dark greens, and weathered browns dominate their attire, allowing them to disappear into shadows or wilderness with equal ease.

Order of Nomads

Nomads dress for travel above all else. Their clothing is lightweight, durable, and adaptable to changing climates. Long coats, scarves, weatherproof cloaks, and layered travelling garments are common, often reinforced with hidden pockets and practical fastenings for maps, journals, and tools gathered throughout their journeys.

Their attire frequently incorporates materials collected from distant lands, making no two Nomads look quite alike. Feathers, shells, rare fabrics, carved bone, and foreign jewellery are worn not as trophies, but as reminders of places visited and stories lived.

Order of Burials

The Order of Burials wears garments that reflect humility and remembrance. Dark robes, ash-grey cloaks, and simple ceremonial vestments dominate their wardrobes, often trimmed with silver embroidery representing the cycle of life, death, and memory. Ornamentation is restrained, each piece carrying personal or spiritual significance rather than decorative excess.

Members of the Order often wear heirlooms belonging to departed mentors or family members, believing that carrying these keeps the memory of the dead alive among the living.

Order of Eternal War

Function defines the clothing of the Eternal War. Armour is worn whenever practical, supplemented by heavy cloaks, reinforced leathers, and garments built to endure long campaigns and harsh environments. Their colours are subdued, favouring dark blues, greys, blacks, and muted reds that reflect both discipline and readiness.

Decorations are earned rather than inherited. Every medal, engraved plate, or stitched emblem represents a campaign survived, a life saved, or an oath fulfilled.

Hair and Fabric Rites

Hair and cloth hold deep ceremonial importance throughout Scion society. Hair may be braided to commemorate achievements, cut in mourning, or woven together during sacred vows of unity. Likewise, strips of embroidered cloth are often exchanged between family members, mentors, and companions as symbols of trust and shared purpose.

Many ceremonial garments incorporate pieces of fabric passed down through generations, allowing the memory of ancestors to remain part of every important occasion.

Cloaks of Devotion

Among the most treasured garments worn by the Scions are their cloaks of devotion. These cloaks are not issued or inherited, but crafted gradually over the course of a lifetime. Every embroidered pattern, stitched symbol, and repaired tear records an important moment in the wearer's journey.

To lose such a cloak is considered a profound tragedy. To willingly gift one is among the greatest honours a Scion can bestow, symbolising complete trust and the passing of one's legacy to another.

Magic

Innate Understanding

To the Scions, magic is not a tool to be mastered but an inheritance to be understood. It flows through every aspect of their lives as naturally as breath, woven into their culture, philosophy, and identity. From childhood, every Scion is taught that magic is neither a privilege nor a weapon. It is a responsibility entrusted to them by the Forsworn, to be cultivated with patience, wisdom, and restraint.

This natural affinity has made the Scions the foremost magical scholars in Carcer. Their libraries contain centuries of accumulated knowledge, their academies produce many of the world's greatest spellcasters, and their theories have shaped nearly every modern understanding of arcane practice. Even those Scions who never pursue formal magical training possess an instinctive awareness of magical forces that most other races can scarcely comprehend.

To outsiders, this effortless connection often appears as arrogance. To the Scions, it is simply the fulfilment of the purpose for which they were created.

Magic as Duty

Power without discipline is considered dangerous, regardless of its source. Every Scion is taught that the pursuit of magical knowledge must always be balanced by wisdom and responsibility. A spell cast without purpose is wasteful. A spell cast without understanding is reckless. A spell cast without compassion is unforgivable.

This philosophy shapes every aspect of Scion magical education. Students spend years studying history, ethics, and philosophy alongside practical spellcraft. A mage is judged not by the number of spells they know, but by the judgement they display when choosing whether those spells should be cast at all.

Many of the greatest magical institutions in Carcer were founded by Scions, not to hoard knowledge, but to preserve it. They believe every discovery should strengthen the world rather than dominate it. Dangerous rituals are sealed away rather than destroyed, ensuring future generations may learn from them without repeating the mistakes of the past.

The Scions know all too well what unchecked magic can become. The Sundering remains a constant reminder that even divine races are not immune to the consequences of ambition. For this reason, they approach every new discovery with equal measures of curiosity and caution.

To the Scions, true mastery of magic is not measured by power.

It is measured by restraint.

Scion Settlements

Where the Scions Dwell

The greatest Scion settlements stand within the ancient Shining Cities, magnificent centres of learning, governance, and magical achievement founded during the age of the Forsworn. Their elegant towers, marble streets, and sprawling libraries remain symbols of civilisation throughout Carcer, drawing scholars, diplomats, and pilgrims from every corner of the world.

Yet not every Scion chooses city life. Members of different Orders often establish homes better suited to their philosophies. Nomads travel constantly aboard ships that sail both sea and sky. The Masks hide their enclaves beneath forgotten ruins or deep within enchanted forests. The Burials maintain secluded necropolises and temple complexes where they guard the relics and resting places of the Forsworn. The Eternal War occupies remote fortress monasteries positioned along mountain ranges, wilderness frontiers, and other places where they believe ancient threats may one day emerge.

Despite these differences, all Scions recognise the Shining Cities as the spiritual heart of their civilisation. Important ceremonies, gatherings of the Orders, and matters affecting the future of their people inevitably draw them back to these sacred places.

Relations with Other Races

The Scions maintain relationships with nearly every civilisation in Carcer, though few of those relationships are uncomplicated. Their reputation for wisdom earns admiration, while their certainty of purpose often breeds resentment. Many races look to the Scions for guidance in times of crisis, yet just as many accuse them of arrogance, detachment, or interfering in affairs beyond their concern.

Their bond with the Dworn stretches back to the dawn of civilisation itself. Though their shared history has known periods of conflict and misunderstanding, mutual respect remains strong. The Scions recognise the Dworn as master craftsmen and steadfast allies, while the Dworn acknowledge the Scions' unmatched scholarship and magical expertise.

Relations with the Orukar remain shaped by the wounds of the Sundering. Though the events that created the Orukar have long since passed into legend, memories linger in both cultures. Some Scions continue to view the Orukar with caution, while others seek reconciliation, believing the mistakes of the past should not define future generations.

No relationship is more painful than that between the Scions and the Forsaken. Once a single people, they now stand divided by history, belief, and memory. The Scions see the Forsaken as those who abandoned their sacred purpose. The Forsaken see the Scions as those who refused compassion when it mattered most. Yet beneath the bitterness remains an undeniable truth: both races carry the same divine blood, and neither can fully escape the shadow of the other.

Among Humans, the Scions are often regarded with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. Their long lives, magical gifts, and refined culture inspire admiration, but also create a sense of distance. The Fey, by contrast, often treat the Scions with amused curiosity, finding their ordered philosophy endlessly fascinating, if occasionally misguided.

The Forsworn and the Divine Plan

Every aspect of Scion civilisation ultimately returns to a single belief: that the Forsworn entrusted them with a purpose that has not yet been fulfilled.

Whether through governance, exploration, scholarship, warfare, or quiet acts of service, every Scion seeks to honour that inheritance in their own way. The Orders may disagree on how best to prepare the world for the future, but none question that the future is theirs to safeguard.

Some believe the Forsworn will one day return to judge their descendants. Others believe the gods have already departed forever, leaving the Scions to complete the work alone. A growing number wonder whether the true inheritance was never divine power at all, but the responsibility to choose their own destiny.

Whatever the truth may be, the Scions continue to endure. They build. They learn. They remember. They prepare.

For if the age of the gods has truly ended, then the age of the Scions has only just begun.

Where To Next?

• Scions ← Back to Scion Race Page
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• Magic