The Church of Cantankerous Saints

A Quick History Lesson

When the House Constantin's short-lived monarchy finally ended, every sign of their existence was put to the torch. The people of The Republic were a proud conglomerate, always believing in an individual's freedom to live and choose, which made the idea of a "chosen class" incredibly unpopular.

Their tapestries were burned, graves were defiled into mushy crypts, silver and gold melted down into the currency of the new Republic. These were the workings of a nation beginning to heal, yet not all was lost beneath piles of molten crowns. 

The House Constantin believed in a national church with both Gods and Saints. This church was dissolved alongside the royal family, but some remnants were left sputtering with the embers required to grow interesting. The Republic had no need for Gods, but it saw value in the idea that human beings could rise above even material limitations. Thus, The Ex-Saints of Bromeilles were brought to fruition.

Churches are as much an idea as they are a place of worship
Photo from A Lady In London

 Fruition Borne Fruit

The Church of Cantankerous Saints is an organization of self-imposed ex-pats. These citizens have sworn off the trappings of The Republic and its customs, dedicating themselves to the betterment of oneself. Friar-Monks of the church often serve their entire lives within these hovels, searching within themselves for some modicum of truth in understanding the greater picture.

Or at least that's what the official motto says. It seems that most of the time, all they're doing is getting drunk and complaining about the world they only happen to be a part of.

In truth, The Church of Cantankerous Saints serves as a sort of respite for the emotionally damaged in society. A place for tortured souls and the socially adversarial, where they can tend to themselves and others like them and perhaps make sense of the world they left behind. Indeed, many friar monks never leave their monasteries, but this says more about their treatment by society than their own thoughts.

All churches follow a brief code of honour designed to keep new members close and ex-friars humble, most notably:

1. A visitor is a guest and must be cared for, but can only be brought inside if their life depends on it. Friars must go out of their way beyond the monastery, to a limit, to help those in need. You need not be happy about it.
   
   
2. You must perform some task for the sake of your friary. It may be physical, mental, or psychological, so long as you provide a service to your siblings. You are here to improve, and to improve requires one to learn new tricks.
   
   
3. All members join of their own accord. Once you join the friary, you can never leave; once you leave, you can never return. Remember to pay it back!

 Bad Gone Chaotic Neutral

Nobody is forced to join The Church of The Cantankerous Saints. Some will be pressured, others convinced, and moreso punished by law, but you can never be forced to stay. A foxhole in Corbeaux can drop you into the nearest friary at a whim, but the monks there will very clearly let you leave if persisted. Once escaping becomes an option, what reason is there to stay? Change can only arise if the individual wishes, so The Saints believe, so most newcomers opt to stay.

Once you're in the friary, there's no turning back. From this point onward, you are a new person; you adopt new hobbies and duties alongside worldly changes. Of course, you're allowed to travel outside the friary, whether to perform tasks or barter for the monastery's whole, but only so far. Escape has become a condition with a pre-requisite only attainable through change. 

Whether or not you changed can be argued among your fellow monks, but it is ultimately up to you. Your decision to leave the friary is permanent. It cannot be denied or reversed. 

Former monks of a church are still expected to send back tithe. Paying it back is just as important as paying it forward, and why not support those who did the same to you?

I imagine the churches are all very worn and very old
Picture by Trudy

♔

 

Weeping Saints

The overall mantra of The Church of Cantankerous Saints shares a similar air to that of the greek philosopher Diogenes, holding tight to his philosophy of critique and cynicism. Life and its core requirements have been muddled over centuries of hobbling, twisted and made complicated, and only through being faithful to one another can these deep social conundrums be solved. 

The teachings of Sainte-Lisabelle de Thibaud are much the same. They call her The Weeper, and her beliefs, too, rallied the causes of cynics and stoics alike. Symbols of her likeness are in most monasteries, sometimes unaffiliated ones, for her kindest lessons teach that life can not always be dark, gruelling and serious. These are lessons taken to heart, especially by the likes of the friars themselves. 

Many of the friar monks are criminals. Convicts and outlaws, refugees and misunderstood artistes, besides all manner of forgotten folk. The lifestyle many of these people left behind often already granted them a more brusque view of the world. The philosophy of The Cantankerous Saints only elevates that.

Being a member of the monastery is both physical and philosophical. A task both social and psychological. It is a place of challenging not only your own world views but the views of those around you, at certain times radically. Rosters here are less cleanly trimmed than in other organizations, meaning that all manner of individuals will eventually pop up within its walls. If you possess no desire to lose your beliefs, perhaps under a preconception that you are somehow more correct than they are, you will begin to study. You will begin to understand from studying, and from understanding, you will begin to teach. This is what schools of thought are made from and, ultimately, where societies are born.

The friars are still human, though. They quip, and they lie, and they fight. They make mistakes and they apologize after a sleepless night of passion. In their words, that is half the reason it is so effective; When the institutions are pulled back, and the strings of the machine are left bare, isn't it so much easier to learn and to fight and to love? They struggle, but they do not suffer.

In simpler words; no bullshit, no problems. 

The Twelve Laws

 The Twelve Laws are a collection of rules, warnings, and regulations designed for the Artisans of The Republic to abide by. First written by a solely Roussili council (and co-written by Gisele De Roy), The Twelve Laws have gone through several revisions, though not significantly altered in the last 300 years. 

All Artisans are taught The Twelve Laws within their Artisinal Schools. These laws are seen as paramount to their education and are beaten metaphorically and literally into their mindset by their educators, to the point that most Artisans call them by another name; Des Vérités Évidentes, Self-Evident Truths.

These Laws are briefly explained below, in the order in which they are currently written:

1) Matter cannot be created or destroyed, only manipulated.

It is known that there are forces in this world which create universal constants, as well as those which abuse them. The concept of True Annihilation is heavily debated, albeit less so studied, as is the concept of Ur-Fabrication. To Artisans who devote their lives to manipulating some fragment of the waking world, these are the barriers by which we may begin charting limits and capabilities. Without these limits, Man may have deemed their work impossible from the beginning.

2) You must give before you are willing to take.

An Artisan's Five Tenets are Cumulation, Acumen, Ambition, Intuition, and Sacrifice. Through these tenets, Artisans focus on their fields and sharpen their minds. As a consequence of the magic of the Imps and kindred in The Occult Artform, nothing can be made from nothing. Decisions must be made with every casting; rocks, plants, or flesh must be transmuted in exchange for magic. Sacrifice is one of the first lessons an Artisan learns in their studies, at times with dire consequences. 

3) Sacrifice is the greatest act of all. 

As with The Second Law, the idea of giving oneself to a greater power is a concept analogue to martyrdom among Artisans. The ability to freely throw yourself into harm's way mentally and physically is a trait often pounded into their brains, so much so that it's been tediously studied. The Gisele Phenomenon shows a clear-cut psychological change between Artisans and their non-trained partners: An Artisan is twice as likely to put themselves in danger and just as likely to be dismembered for it.

4) All knowledge is related to some sort of higher truth.

The collection and subsequent archivization of information is a fiery social passion amongst the ranks of the Roussili and, by extension, the antediluvian systems put in place by The Republic. Information is seen as borderline sacrosanct to all but the most insipid folk, constantly changing and growing with the rapidly increasing pace of time in pursuit of greater belief. Artisans live by the truth that "everything happens for a reason."

5) Wise spades outdo dull hands.

Despite numerous idioms regarding the value of diversity and surface knowledge, it is common doctrine amongst Artisans that, in fact, it is far better to actually be specialized in a craft. There is little softening behind the actual emotion within the phrase, seeing how heavily Artisinal Schools prioritize making students experts in their traditional field far before they graduate. A specialist can handle just as much juggling as their jack contemporaries, arguably equally, while excelling over even the moderately educated in a particular field. 

To The Republic, Artisans are scholars first and magicians second, something even it is subject to forget.

6) That which is not lost is found.

Also, per The Republic's concentric ideology, Artisan students are commonly taught the importance of the mere act of study, not just what becomes of it. It is of great importance to The Republic and the institutions it has developed to pursue new threads wherever they lie. Knowledge not actively being pursued might as well not exist, and only inches closer to that harrowing point of being lost forever. With a conscious pursuit of historical fact becoming increasingly popular in recent years, the discovery of new threads has become remarkably alluring, in a way that promotes dropping all else to pursue it.

7) Education is dynamic, do not believe your studies will ever end.

Artisans continue their studies after graduation. In essence, it is a part of their very purpose: a perpetual struggle to teach and master. Some never leave the Artisinal Schools at all, assigned either to the crawling libraries of Archivists or the chopping blocks which suit Lolea. It is rarely in the interest of a well-groomed Artisan to ever stop committing to memory.

8) Some forces, no matter how appealing to the greater good, must never be legitimized.

It is common knowledge, enough to be noticeable, that the supernatural is wildly dangerous. Even in the stubbornest grumbling of ignorant men, there lies a twinge of caution, wholly aware of the dangers that await them in their most profound minds. The Republic has done its best to procure a respectful coterie of "acceptable" magic, but even that list shifts with the political shades that permeate The Committee. Within The Occult Artform, some feats dance along the knife's edge (coincidentally called Forbiddances by the Artisinal Schools), never mind the sly chicanery of Yr Drannas and the eldritch horror of The Primeval Forces.

The Republic is fully aware of its own hypocrisy. In its own twisted view, complacency and legitimacy are not the same, hence why some factions freely engage in workings with the Crourwrought or the dead.

9) You are special, not unique.

Anyone can learn magic. This is true of The Occult Artform, and always has been, to the dismay of few and joy of many. Artisans are oft picked from the breadbaskets of humanity, those who have shown either remarkable talent or a particular drive to learn. Nepotism is, of course, an issue (to some) within certain circles. Regardless, it is in the best interests of students to remember that they are as vulnerable as anyone else, physically or otherwise. Misbehaviour can cause tension in a classroom or potentially kill dozens in the field. You are replaceable, even when schools struggle to fill classes up to standard. Never forget that. 

10) Take any advantage you can find, for your enemies were born with them.

There are numerous explanations for why humanity jumped upon the idea of The Occult so feverously, and most of them would be correct, but none as important as the desire for self-governance. Historical records among the Roussili share a common sentiment of mankind being somewhat downtrodden by nature, in a way where humanity has always suffered and yet persevered under those who were "born better." They do not have claws, wings, or intrinsically miraculous properties. Humanity has survived because of its wit; It has taken every opportunity the universe has granted it, so the Imp's gifts should be no different.

11) Do not forget yourself.

It can be easy to forget one's place in the universe, especially when overwhelmed by the prospect of incredible supernatural potential. Artisans can sometimes forget that they are not immune to the forces of nature nor the inscrutable chaos of man. It is essential to eschew this arrogance throughout the term of education, instead applying great lessons on self-awareness to minimize misdemeanours. There will be pompous Artisans regardless, moments of pride in even the most stoic wizard, but it does not hurt The Republic's bottom line to at least attempt to address the issue.

The phrase "absolute power corrupts absolutely," while true, at times forgets a simpler truth:

The power required to corrupt a man is far less than one would desire.

12) The death of an Artisan is never the end.

Artisans are scholars first and magicians second. This has always been true among the Artisinal Schools and only tightened in the years since their founding. Even minor breakthroughs are archived should their findings be made public, and are torn from their hiding places otherwise. Every Artisan's advancement in their studies is seen as an advancement for mankind. Burial rites are designed in specific accordance with deceased Artisans. Shelves are isolated for dissertations within The Glass House as a sign of most profound respect. 

Despite many an individual's personal beliefs, The Republic's core ideology is inherently humble to the workings of the Artisan. Perhaps that is why the sting of betrayal burns so hot when Mages emerge on the sides of the enemy.

The Club Cassiopea

 In the deepest parts of the Hala'ib Triangle lies a nameless town, buried behind miles of thick rock and shrubland.

The plants here grow in inconceivable ways; dry grass crawling up abandoned homes like vines in a swamp, tall reeds engulfing doorframes and windows. It is a dead place where mud bricks make up shattered homes and lambasted doors. 

But it is in this place that an entryway hides in plain sight. An old cathedral, home to a God far older than the nation it resides in, buried in the sands of time. This is the door, and like all places with the same door, one only needs a key to enter.

Accessibility

The Club Cassiopea is a lounge of monsters made by creatures of the night for creatures of the night. It is a safe space for beings of all races and creeds, an extradimensional corner of the universe reserved just for them. Vampires, werewolves, ghouls and ghosts from every denomination imaginable by human minds, not to mention those which man are better off living without.

There is only one Club Cassiopea but multiple entrances. A pub in Fermanagh, an abandoned distillery in St. Louis, and a tunnel system in Serangoon. Hundreds of locations across dozens of countries.

The intention is more important than location when it comes to accessibility. So long as you have a key, finding your way inside is relatively easy. Invites usually involve silver disks wrapped in leather kites, like origami. Most creatures can at the very least handle the presence of silver, even if unnerved by it.

An aesthetic not too dissimilar to fancy saloons.
By Erica Werner

Miscibility

Technology is a bane to existence. A crutch given to those who were not born with the power to protect themselves and incapable of handling the strain of taking it. But there are hypocrites in all facets of the world, even those ruled by monsters.

It is a rule that no ordinary human be allowed on the grounds of The Club Cassopea, lest they be invited with an accord. This is a broad rule but a tight one, as many of The Club's patrons include Wizards, Psychics, and other extraordinary humans. An ordinary man in their halls is the same as a rat among grains. 

No forged weaponry is allowed on the premises; no swords, no hammers, and especially no guns. Such tools are seen as anathema to the collective consciousness of The Club, another sign of mankind's inability to fend for itself. 

Every piece of technology is constructed with the vaguest imitation of the human form in mind. The Club's interior most commonly resembles an old pub, candlelight flickering beneath the glass cover of braziers and lanterns. Chairs are made in the design of man's most extraordinary sculptures, manipulated every slightly to avoid humanoid ire. Walls, tables, bricks, and stone are all crafted in an uncanny valley between human and deranged.

Lightbulbs shake in their plugs because they aren't full of electricity, but bioluminescent bugs. That wall feels like it's staring at you. It is.

Culpability

Most go to The Club Cassiopea to relax; rewinding is a rare art in the field of intelligent monsters, so a universal location for all serves as an essential part of the social ecosystem. Vampires often recruit loyal, willing servants from around the world here, as do wizards find new thralls to experiment on.

The design changes, but the goal remains the same.
By David J. Crewe

Agreements are made in parchment and blood, signed and shaken upon while surrounded by witnesses. Such agreements often fall through from betrayal or loopholes in contracts, but enough are maintained for the concept to matter. The Club Cassiopea is an exception, not the rule, and many would see that things remain this way. 

Violence isn't forbidden in the halls either. Many have been killed after a troll was spoiled by their drink, or when a demon finally had enough of some wizard's attempts at concubining. The only proper laws are those against forged weaponry and humans, and wizards alone have abstracted both, but a series of good-faith rules have sprung in their place. 

Violence is looked down upon, but accepted if it can be justified.

Sex, substance abuse, and chicanery are all tolerated in moderation. Devils who always go back on their word rarely get to make another in The Club.

No Phones. No laptops, no digital watches, and don't carry something in the open that can obviously harm another patron. A Lycanthrope eyeing your silver sword will take it as a threat. A challenge, perhaps.

The Lady

The Lady is the owner of The Club Cassiopea, serving as its caretaker and primary guardian in all situations. She is the reason for The Club's creation and its anti-humanist laws, having made her disdain for mankind a sort of brand for The Club. 

The Lady is a stockbroker, handling all business transactions that bleed through The Club Cassiopea. She is open to admitting her considerable hand in the bounty hunting business, putting up contracts for dangerous or interesting individuals of every race. Her spy networks are massive, stretching across most of the known world on the earth's surface.

Every job posted by The Lady is financed directly from her coffers. This serves both as a reminder of her seemingly endless wealth and an excuse to involve herself. She has a penchant for eavesdropping.

Very few know of The Lady's true appearances. Her private chamber within The Club is often obscured in veils and smoke, its aesthetic hinting at the very least to some middle-eastern genesis point. Any accords she may hold with visitors are usually between a thick sheet of silk, with only the vaguest outline of The Lady visible. Ironically, the shape she most commonly presents with this shadow is that of a humanoid woman, a detail she openly despises.

Humans sometimes make deals with The Lady. Unlike her many patrons, she has no patience or insincerity for her honest thoughts about mankind. Regardless, they sometimes serve as an excellent last resort when getting things done, much to her dismay.

The Lady's Wishes

1. Government Special Forces have implanted themselves in a specific region, searching for an object of The Lady's interest.
2. An object of importance has been stolen from The Club Cassiopea, belonging to an influential patron of The Lady herself.
3. The laws of The Club Cassiopea have been violated, and now an ex-patron threatens to allow dangerous humans access to its halls.
4. A pact has been made under The Lady's watchful eye, which you are now tasked with ensuring.
5. A door has been broken, and its magic unleashed on the nearby populace.
6. The Lady hungers for excitement. She will point you in the right direction and ask you to bring her something interesting.

DRUID: Circle of Steel

         

Telthona

    “Quiet...The Earth is Feeding...”

          ~Morrigan, Bearer of Tal’Drenaris

In times of war and desperation, where there is blood to be spilt and allies to be heeded, a most unlikely ally may arise from the woods. Druids of the Circle of Steel are powerful Ferromancers; primal sages of the earth itself and its metals, shaping mortal inventions to their whim in lieu of nature. Some Steel Druids become this way by losing everything, hatred in their hearts as the lasts of their forests burn. Others join armies or warbands, arguing in favour of the fauna they'll inevitably destroy. Corpses run dry and rot, weapons rust and return to the earth. War is inevitable, but nature prevails.

Circle of Steel

Your unique relationship with metals and your anachronism for war has benefited you, granting you access to certain spells. At 2nd level, you learn the mending cantrip. At 3rd, 5th, 7th, and 9th level you gain access to the spells listed for that level in the Circle of Steel Spells table.

Once you gain access to one of these spells, you always have it prepared, and it doesn't count against the number of spells you can prepare each day. If you gain access to a spell that doesn't appear on the druid spell list, the spell is nonetheless a druid spell for you.

Circle Spells

Druid Level	Circle Spells
3rd	Cloud of Daggers, Heat Metal
5th	Glyph of Warding, Spirit Guardians
7th	Fabricate, Find Greater Steed
9th	Animate Objects, Dominate Person

Warhound

You gain proficiency with martial weapons. Additionally, you no longer suffer any restrictions in regards to using equipment made of metal.

Archon’s Shape

Starting when you pick this circle at 2nd level, you may forge armour fit for a true guardian of the grove. As an action, you may expend a use of your Wild Shape to surround your body in magical plate metal, rather than transforming into a beast, which looks as you please. While this feature is active, you gain the following benefits:

----

•Your AC becomes 17 + half your proficiency modifier (rounded down) if it were lower. You cannot benefit from a shield while in this form. If your AC is permanently reduced below 17 by an effect, your wild shape immediately ends.

•Whenever you cast a Druid spell of 1st level or higher that deals damage, you may change the damage type dealt with magical bludgeoning, piercing, or slashing damage. 

•Whenever you deal bludgeoning, piercing, or slashing damage, you may use your reaction to gain a number of temporary hit points equal to half the damage dealt. Once you have used this feature, you cannot do so again until you Wild Shape again. Leaving Wild Shape for any reason removes these hit points.

These benefits last for 10 minutes, or until you revert to your normal form as a bonus action.

Metallurgist

Starting at 6th level, whenever you or an allied creature you can see within 30 feet is targeted by a spell or weapon attack, you can transfer portions of the armour from your Archon's Shape to protect them. As a reaction, you may grant the target the benefits of the Shield spell against the triggering attack. Your AC while in your Archon's Shape is then reduced by 1, and you cannot use this feature again if it would reduce your AC below 17. Your AC returns to normal after you finish a long rest.

Forge the Blood Will

Starting at 10th level, whenever you cast a Druid spell of 1st level or higher that deals damage and hits, you may choose one of the following effects:

•Sculpt: One target of your choosing must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or receive a culminative -1 detriment to AC for 1 minute. You then gain a +1 bonus to AC for the duration.

•Carve: One target of your choosing must succeed on a Constitution saving throw or begin bleeding profusely for 1 minute. Constructs and creatures that don't have blood automatically succeed on this saving throw. On a failure, the target has disadvantage on checks to maintain concentration and loses 2d4 hit points at the start of each turn. A creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of its turn, ending the effect on a success. If a creature is targeted by this feature again while under its effects, on a failure, the damage increases by 2d4.

You may use this feature a number of times equal to your Wisdom modifier (minimum 1), and you regain all uses after you finish a Long Rest.

Iron Warden

Starting at 14th level, you may perform a rite in order to guarantee your domain's control. You commit to a 1-day ritual in which you expend 500 gp worth of materials, attune to a mundane object (such as a necklace), and expend a spell slot of 5th level or higher. A Shield Guardian then rises from the materials used.

The Shield Guardian follows your verbal commands (no action required) and rolls for initiative independently of you. If you do not give the Shield Guardian a command, it defends itself from harm but otherwise performs no other actions. Additionally, When you expend the spell slot of 5th level or higher, pick a spell you know with a level equal to or less than the spell slot used from the Druid spell list. Your Shield Guardian may cast that spell once per day as its stored spell, using your spellcasting modifier in place of its own.

You may once have one Shield Guardian under your control at a time, and may command it so long as you have the object used to bind it on your person. Additionally, You cannot use the spell slot used to charge the Shield Guardian so long as it is active. You regain your expended spell slot whenever the guardian is reduced to 0 hit points, or you perform another 1-day ritual to replace it.