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The Ol' Tavisham Academy is one of Sansar's oldest magical institutions, by their own reckoning. Built on a tiny island off the coast of the Ebon Cove, the Academy is a squat limestone fort, stolidly staring out over the surrounding sea. Dotted with towers and pitted with arenas and ampitheatres, the Academy is served by myriad small fishing villages and craft towns along the coast, and by three mines high in the Gilded Mountains. The plains around the coast are covered by grass the would tower over an ordinary person, grass that sways and waves like an ocean all its own. The boats that ply the Ebon Cove are mirrored by wheeled sail-craft that tack across the Hollow Vale. Lying dormant and derelict to devour the unwary are the entrances to sprawling catacombs and tunnel systems, remnants of the times before the War Eternal. Recent arrivals to the Hollow Vale are the Rathakaz, whose rickety contraptions have set the placid grass sea a-roaring.

The denizens of Old Tavisham are primarily ratfolk, furred creatures standing three to four feet tall, the descendants of the survivors of the War Eternal upon Tavish Isle. The mages of the Academy garb themselves in leather and woad, dying both their hide clothing and their fur in line with their rank within the strictly hierarchical institution. The fisherfolk of the Cove itself are legally restricted to simple garb, to coarse linen and woven grass, for the mages of the Academy work tirelessly to ensure their authority is self evident and complete before magic is even necessary, and use these clear gulfs in appearance to reinforce their inherent superiority. The navigators and sailors that ply the Hollow Vale and the Ebon Cove are permitted to wear green or blue facepaint respectively, as acknowledgements of their station. The mines of the Mountains are operated almost entirely by magic, supervised by a small cadre of higher mages.

When the War Eternal ended and the vast forests that covered the Hollow Vale were pulp-verised, few upon the mainland survived. Those that did descended into petty feuding and chaos. Tavish Isle, in a quirk of administrative and bureaucratic confusion, had been incorrectly marked as seventeen miles further east on survey maps, and so survived the conflict mostly unscathed. Unfortunately there was very little upon the isle but a small limestone lighthouse, the haven for a reclusive band of mystic mages obsessed with the manipulation of air currents. These they used to steer oncoming vessels away from the isle, keeping it an enigma to the mainlanders for decades as they slowly came to realise the apocalyptic extent of Sansar's destruction. From this isle they came, always but a few, in small boats that always had the run of the winds, to assert their dominion over the fishing villages that had sprung up along the Cove's shores. In time, they probed further, crafting wheeled cradles to allow their boats to transit the Hollow Vale too, and eventually making inroads into the Mountains, founding the mines to bring stone back to the isle, beginning a millennia long process of expanding their burgeoning academy high and low, until today, it covers almost half of the small isle. A people tolerated warmly by the Empire for their open reporting and excellent record-keeping, the mages of Old Tavisham are still wild about air magic, and dream of crafting space-going ships slung along at speeds unseeable by solar winds.

Only a decade ago, the greatest upheaval for the Academy since the War Eternal occured; the Rathakaz emerged from the catacombs. A race of tinkerers, mechanics and pilots, the Rathakaz are six limbed, exceedingly thin beings, whose bodies seem almost designed to handle high-g manouevres. Piloting their thrusters-bolted-to-frames, they have thrown the order of Old Tavisham into chaos, and summits with the Headmistress are ongoing over their place in the region.

The Gilt Limestone of the eponymous Gilded Mountains is a soft white-green rock pierced with interminable intricate patterns of green, gold and deep purple crystal. Found in large deposits high amongst the peaks, the stone is visually dazzling, as the patterning along each cut block can be seen to the horizon in the sun, and even in the moonlight is illuminated and visible for miles around. The Academy is caked in the stuff, and is a beacon day and night for all around. This falls under the Construction Materials category.

The mages can never get enough lumber. The destruction of the forests of the Vale has never been recovered fully from, and the boats both land and seagoing are entirely dependent on trade, trade that the mages are not renowned for their adeptness at. As such, many of their craft are in dangerous states of disrepair or aging. Without their sailcraft, what would air mages do to get around?

The mages have made themselves and their Academy the objects of veneration and worship within Old Tavisham, likening themself to the populace of the villages and craft towns as demi-gods to the faithful, manipulating the divine forces as only those part-divine can. Each village has their own version of this cult, devoted to both the winds and those that wield them. The mages for their part view the wind as semi-divine, and the vastness of space as the abode of the gods, their residence on this earth as a purgatory of sorts, a punishment for being too blind and powerless to roam those skies themselves - for now. This faith is loosely termed Auroraisia, and is followed by a majority of the region's inhabitants.

The government at present is the secret council of the Academy, a conclave of the most powerful members of the academy's broader teaching staff. Its members are unknown to all but the Academy's headmistress, Elsith Relg. Mercantile control is exercised by the Intrepid Archons of Land and Sea, the mages responsible for manipulating the trade winds that move ships across Vale and Cove. Banned from being members of the secret council, these Archons guard jealousy the routes of least resistance they use to bring boats to and fro. The branch of the academy responsible for media control, in their context and parlance the relations with and and continuing control over the commonfolk of the region, and interfaculty cooperation, is the Lighthouse Initiative, based out of the edifice that survived the War Eternal. The politics inherent to such a group permeate the Academy, and their charter gives them great sway over happenings within Old Tavisham.

The Ol' Tavisham Academy is one of Sansar's oldest magical institutions, by their own reckoning. Built on a tiny island off the coast of the Ebon Cove, the Academy is a squat limestone fort, stolidly staring out over the surrounding sea. Dotted with towers and pitted with arenas and ampitheatres, the Academy is served by myriad small fishing villages and craft towns along the coast, and by three mines high in the Gilded Mountains. The plains around the coast are covered by grass the would tower over an ordinary person, grass that sways and waves like an ocean all its own. The boats that ply the Ebon Cove are mirrored by wheeled sail-craft that tack across the Hollow Vale. Lying dormant and derelict to devour the unwary are the entrances to sprawling catacombs and tunnel systems, remnants of the times before the War Eternal. Recent arrivals to the Hollow Vale are the Rathakaz, whose rickety contraptions have set the placid grass sea a-roaring.

The denizens of Old Tavisham are primarily ratfolk, furred creatures standing three to four feet tall, the descendants of the survivors of the War Eternal upon Tavish Isle. The mages of the Academy garb themselves in leather and woad, dying both their hide clothing and their fur in line with their rank within the strictly hierarchical institution. The fisherfolk of the Cove itself are legally restricted to simple garb, to coarse linen and woven grass, for the mages of the Academy work tirelessly to ensure their authority is self evident and complete before magic is even necessary, and use these clear gulfs in appearance to reinforce their inherent superiority. The navigators and sailors that ply the Hollow Vale and the Ebon Cove are permitted to wear green or blue facepaint respectively, as acknowledgements of their station. The mines of the Mountains are operated almost entirely by magic, supervised by a small cadre of higher mages.

When the War Eternal ended and the vast forests that covered the Hollow Vale were pulp-verised, few upon the mainland survived. Those that did descended into petty feuding and chaos. Tavish Isle, in a quirk of administrative and bureaucratic confusion, had been incorrectly marked as seventeen miles further east on survey maps, and so survived the conflict mostly unscathed. Unfortunately there was very little upon the isle but a small limestone lighthouse, the haven for a reclusive band of mystic mages obsessed with the manipulation of air currents. These they used to steer oncoming vessels away from the isle, keeping it an enigma to the mainlanders for decades as they slowly came to realise the apocalyptic extent of Sansar's destruction. From this isle they came, always but a few, in small boats that always had the run of the winds, to assert their dominion over the fishing villages that had sprung up along the Cove's shores. In time, they probed further, crafting wheeled cradles to allow their boats to transit the Hollow Vale too, and eventually making inroads into the Mountains, founding the mines to bring stone back to the isle, beginning a millennia long process of expanding their burgeoning academy high and low, until today, it covers almost half of the small isle. A people tolerated warmly by the Empire for their open reporting and excellent record-keeping, the mages of Old Tavisham are still wild about air magic, and dream of crafting space-going ships slung along at speeds unseeable by solar winds.

Only a decade ago, the greatest upheaval for the Academy since the War Eternal occured; the Rathakaz emerged from the catacombs. A race of tinkerers, mechanics and pilots, the Rathakaz are six limbed, exceedingly thin beings, whose bodies seem almost designed to handle high-g manouevres. Piloting their thrusters-bolted-to-frames, they have thrown the order of Old Tavisham into chaos, and summits with the Headmistress are ongoing over their place in the region.

The Gilt Limestone of the eponymous Gilded Mountains is a soft white-green rock pierced with interminable intricate patterns of green, gold and deep purple crystal. Found in large deposits high amongst the peaks, the stone is visually dazzling, as the patterning along each cut block can be seen to the horizon in the sun, and even in the moonlight is illuminated and visible for miles around. The Academy is caked in the stuff, and is a beacon day and night for all around.

The mages can never get enough lumber. The destruction of the forests of the Vale has never been recovered fully from, and the boats both land and seagoing are entirely dependent on trade, trade that the mages are not renowned for their adeptness at. As such, many of their craft are in dangerous states of disrepair or aging. Without their sailcraft, what would air mages do to get around?

The mages have made themselves and their Academy the objects of veneration and worship within Old Tavisham, likening themself to the populace of the villages and craft towns as demi-gods to the faithful, manipulating the divine forces as only those part-divine can. Each village has their own version of this cult, devoted to both the winds and those that wield them. The mages for their part view the wind as semi-divine, and the vastness of space as the abode of the gods, their residence on this earth as a purgatory of sorts, a punishment for being too blind and powerless to roam those skies themselves - for now. This faith is loosely termed Auroraisia, and is followed by a majority of the region's inhabitants.

The government at present is the secret council of the Academy, a conclave of the most powerful members of the academy's broader teaching staff. Its members are unknown to all but the Academy's headmistress, Elsith Relg. Mercantile control is exercised by the Intrepid Archons of Land and Sea, the mages responsible for manipulating the trade winds that move ships across Vale and Cove. Banned from being members of the secret council, these Archons guard jealousy the routes of least resistance they use to bring boats to and fro. The branch of the academy responsible for media control, in their context and parlance the relations with and and continuing control over the commonfolk of the region, and interfaculty cooperation, is the Lighthouse Initiative, based out of the edifice that survived the War Eternal. The politics inherent to such a group permeate the Academy, and their charter gives them great sway over happenings within Old Tavisham.

The Ol' Tavisham Academy is one of Sansar's oldest magical institutions, by their own reckoning. Built on a tiny island off the coast of the Ebon Cove, the Academy is a squat limestone fort, stolidly staring out over the surrounding sea. Dotted with towers and pitted with arenas and ampitheatres, the Academy is served by myriad small fishing villages and craft towns along the coast, and by three mines high in the Gilded Mountains. The plains around the coast are covered by grass the would tower over an ordinary person, grass that sways and waves like an ocean all its own. The boats that ply the Ebon Cove are mirrored by wheeled sail-craft that tack across the Hollow Vale. Lying dormant and derelict to devour the unwary are the entrances to sprawling catacombs and tunnel systems, remnants of the times before the War Eternal. Recent arrivals to the Hollow Vale are the Rathakaz, whose rickety contraptions have set the placid grass sea a-roaring.

The denizens of Old Tavisham are primarily ratfolk, furred creatures standing three to four feet tall, the descendants of the survivors of the War Eternal upon Tavish Isle. The mages of the Academy garb themselves in leather and woad, dying both their hide clothing and their fur in line with their rank within the strictly hierarchical institution. The fisherfolk of the Cove itself are legally restricted to simple garb, to coarse linen and woven grass, for the mages of the Academy work tirelessly to ensure their authority is self evident and complete before magic is even necessary, and use these clear gulfs in appearance to reinforce their inherent superiority. The navigators and sailors that ply the Hollow Vale and the Ebon Cove are permitted to wear green or blue facepaint respectively, as acknowledgements of their station. The mines of the Mountains are operated almost entirely by magic, supervised by a small cadre of higher mages.

When the War Eternal ended and the vast forests that covered the Hollow Vale were pulp-verised, few upon the mainland survived. Those that did descended into petty feuding and chaos. Tavish Isle, in a quirk of administrative and bureaucratic confusion, had been incorrectly marked as seventeen miles further east on survey maps, and so survived the conflict mostly unscathed. Unfortunately there was very little upon the isle but a small limestone lighthouse, the haven for a reclusive band of mystic mages obsessed with the manipulation of air currents. These they used to steer oncoming vessels away from the isle, keeping it an enigma to the mainlanders for decades as they slowly came to realise the apocalyptic extent of Sansar's destruction. From this isle they came, always but a few, in small boats that always had the run of the winds, to assert their dominion over the fishing villages that had sprung up along the Cove's shores. In time, they probed further, crafting wheeled cradles to allow their boats to transit the Hollow Vale too, and eventually making inroads into the Mountains, founding the mines to bring stone back to the isle, beginning a millennia long process of expanding their burgeoning academy high and low, until today, it covers almost half of the small isle. A people tolerated warmly by the Empire for their open reporting and excellent record-keeping, the mages of Old Tavisham are still wild about air magic, and dream of crafting space-going ships slung along at speeds unseeable by solar winds.

Only a decade ago, the greatest upheaval for the Academy since the War Eternal occured; the Rathakaz emerged from the catacombs. A race of tinkerers, mechanics and pilots, the Rathakaz are six limbed, exceedingly thin beings, whose bodies seem almost designed to handle high-g manouevres. Piloting their thrusters-bolted-to-frames, they have thrown the order of Old Tavisham into chaos, and summits with the Headmistress are ongoing over their place in the region.

The Gilt Limestone of the eponymous Gilded Mountains is a soft white-green rock pierced with interminable intricate patterns of green, gold and deep purple crystal. Found in large deposits high amongst the peaks, the stone is visually dazzling, as the patterning along each cut block can be seen to the horizon in the sun, and even in the moonlight is illuminated and visible for miles around. The Academy is caked in the stuff, and is a beacon day and night for all around.

The mages can never get enough lumber. The destruction of the forests of the Vale has never been recovered fully from, and the boats both land and seagoing are entirely dependent on trade, trade that the mages are not renowned for their adeptness at. As such, many of their craft are in dangerous states of disrepair or aging. Without their sailcraft, what would air mages do to get around?

The mages have made themselves and their Academy the objects of veneration and worship within Old Tavisham, likening themself to the populace of the villages and craft towns as demi-gods to the faithful, manipulating the divine forces as only those part-divine can. Each village has their own version of this cult, devoted to both the winds and those that wield them. The mages for their part view the wind as semi-divine, and the vastness of space as the abode of the gods, their residence on this earth as a purgatory of sorts, a punishment for being too blind and powerless to roam those skies themselves - for now. This faith is loosely termed Auroraisia, and is followed by a majority of the region's inhabitants.

The government at present is the secret council of the Academy, a conclave of the most powerful members of the academy's broader teaching staff. Its members are unknown to all but the Academy's headmistress, Elsith Relg. Mercantile control is exercised by the Intrepid Archons of Land and Sea, the mages responsible for manipulating the trade winds that move ships across Vale and Cove. Banned from being members of the secret council, these Archons guard jealousy the routes of least resistance they use to bring boats to and fro. The branch of the academy responsible for media control, in their context and parlance the relations with and and continuing control over the commonfolk of the region, and interfaculty cooperation, is the Lighthouse Initiative, based out of the edifice that survived the War Eternal. The politics inherent to such a group permeate the Academy, and their charter gives them great sway over happenings within Old Tavisham.