A Dark God’s Mercy

Though martial prowess and the blade proved a powerful ally in the years leading up to the exodus from the Old Home, none can dispute how magic became the most significant weapon in the arsenal of the survivors on Achades.

So, when mothers began giving birth to children with psionic abilities, they couldn’t help but threaten that system of control.

In response, the Cult of the Coil decreed these children an abomination, compelling the faithful into acts of genocide.

Fortunately for the Shadowborn, these drastic measures didn’t quite work as intended. Instead, they drove a fringe culture on the outskirts of society to denounce the superstitions of the pious in favor of compassion.


Our ancestors were once considered a curse – an ill omen. In the dead of night, parents would cast Shadowborn infants into the sea in tiny, lacquered boxes as offerings to the storm.

Beyond the breakwater, kindly fisherman pulled us half-drowned from their nets and adopted us as their own. So long as we kept silent and out of sight, we were safe. But every year brought with it new conflicts, and slowly we began to realize that the world that had cast us out would inevitably grow beyond the shore.

We, the Lith’s faithful imbued with her gifts, will persist.

Lives spent hidden at sea had made us strong. The Stormcallers taught us of the old ways. They put steel in our hands and the promises of the Lith in our hearts. In return, we vowed to keep them and their families safe from harm.

As Shadows, we painted our skin in the deepest of hues and danced between lashed cities of boats and fishermen. From the darkness, we wet our blades with the blood of those who left us to die at sea. When the tides of war begin to rise again, it is upon our bodies the surge will break. We, the Lith’s faithful, imbued with her gifts, will persist.


The Shadows of the Hidden are the most ferocious of the Shadowborn. Feared the world over as devastating telekinetic assassins, who, for the right price, will descend unseen on a target location and leave no survivors. Their ways teem with ritual and service, for they have no interest in the cities beyond the shore, fearing too much time spent between their spires will corrupt even the purest among them.


From the shadows, we strike.

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