The Order of Voskis
Intent matters little when the words are clear
Purple & Silver | The Sphinx | Maram, Maram
The Order of Voskis: From Blindness to Reckoning
Once, the Order of Voskis stood as the architects and stewards of law. Early Voskin scholars believed the universe itself was deliberate, finely ordered, and that society must mirror this design. Every person, they taught, had a natural place and purpose, and true peace came when each fulfilled their role within the larger pattern. Their villages reflected this vision: carefully structured communities where talents were measured, duties assigned, and all were bound equally by the law. To the Voskis, law was not mere statute but a covenant—living, purposeful, the invisible framework that secured harmony.
But pride and certainty made them vulnerable. Under Lilah’s shadow and the whispers of the Djinn, the Voskis were deceived. The Djinn, with honeyed tongues and shifting truths, stole the voice of the Sphinx—the true arbiter of law—and replaced it with a hollow echo. Believing they still served balance, the Voskis became blind enforcers of the letter of the law. They twisted statutes without mercy, ignored compassion, and wielded order as a weapon against the weak. Every decree carried the hidden stain of Djinn lies. Unwittingly, they built chains, binding Chalameria in order without justice, rule without soul.
Then the Sphinx returned. Its voice—stolen for so long—rose again, steady and undeniable. No longer would judgment be bound to the hollow letter of law, but to its true measure: the spirit that gives it life, the intent that shapes it, and the balance that sustains it. For the Voskis, this was revelation and condemnation alike. They were forced to face the truth that for generations they had enforced false law, blind to the corruption they carried. Some fell into despair, unable to reconcile their legacy with the harm they had wrought. Others clung bitterly to the old ways, unwilling to admit their blindness. Yet among them rose a few who sought to reclaim their purpose, aligning themselves with the Sphinx’s reborn voice: to restore law as covenant, not chain; to balance justice with mercy; to ensure no tongue—Djinn or otherwise—twisted the scales again.
The Voskis at the Crossroads
Now the Order of Voskis stands fractured. Some remain enthralled by rigidity, clutching brittle laws written in lies as if they still held strength. Others, broken by shame, retreat into silence and exile, afraid that any act of theirs might deepen the wound left upon Chalameria. Yet there are those awakened at last, who hear the Sphinx clearly and rise again—not as keepers of law as weapon, but as champions of law as harmony.
The people watch them with suspicion, for it was the people who suffered most under their blindness. The Concord regards them with caution, for it too once trusted their counsel and received only the Djinn’s deceit. Once discredited, the Voskis must now walk a long road of redemption, proving through action that they are more than dupes, more than relics of hollow law.
Yet tragedy lingers. Even as Chalameria begins to settle after war, the scars of vengeance and betrayal do not fade easily. Trust is slow to return, and many would sooner see the Voskis vanish into obscurity than risk their influence again. Still, the seed of redemption remains. The voice of the Sphinx has returned, and though the Order is reviled by many and mistrusted by most, they may yet become the conscience of Chalameria: a reminder etched into history that law without mercy becomes tyranny, and vengeance without law descends into chaos. If they endure—if they listen—they may yet help to heal the land. But their path forward will always be shadowed by what they once were.
The Voskis in the Age of Mortals
The Beings of Power are gone. Their whispers and bargains have fallen silent, leaving only the hands of mortals to shape the world. In this new age, Chalameria remains scarred by war and invasion, its people searching for meaning in the shadow of devastation and reconstruction. Once more, the Order of Voskis must decide what it will be. They can no longer hide behind the Djinn’s echoes or the stolen silence of the Sphinx. The Sphinx has returned, not as master or tyrant, but as a reminder. The Voskis must now carry its wisdom within, proving that law can endure from within, and that mortals can shape justice without twisting it into vengeance.
The order stumbles forward. Some cling to rigid laws written in lies. Others, broken by shame, retreat into exile. Yet the awakened—those who hear the Sphinx clearly—seek a new path. They write codes that temper law with mercy. They travel not as judges wielding authority, but as mediators rebuilding trust one dispute at a time. They teach apprentices philosophy alongside statutes, weaving compassion into precedent. They remind the people that law is not a chain or weapon, but a covenant binding neighbors even in fear.
Still, suspicion lingers. The scars of their corruption are not forgotten. The people watch with wary eyes; the Concord listens but does not yet fully trust. Redemption will not be granted quickly, only earned through patience, humility, and sacrifice.
Thus their role in the Age of Mortals is not to rule, but to guide. To be the keepers of Chalameria’s law and record, asking what others ignore: Does this path preserve order, or does it open the door to vengeance? Their road is long, their shame unforgettable. Yet if they endure—if they hold fast to the spirit of the law—they may become not only stewards of justice but healers of the land.
For in this age without the Beings of Power, where mortals alone must choose, the Voskis carry a lesson carved in blood and silence: law without mercy is tyranny, and vengeance without law is chaos. And between these two abysses, they walk.
The Sphinx: Keeper of Balance in Society
The Sphinx, an enigmatic and mysterious creature, enlightens mortals through riddles that conceal wisdom within paradox. Its presence is rare and fleeting, yet its voice carries the weight of eternity. The Sphinx embodies the delicate interplay of savagery and gentleness, heresy and law, reminding all who listen that true order is not rigidity but balance. To those navigating the complexities of society, it offers guidance, urging them to temper tradition with progress, justice with mercy, and the letter of law with the spirit that gives it life.
The Sphinx’s Realm: Law & Wisdom; Absolutism & Heresy
The teachings of the Sphinx emphasize both clarity and compassion, challenging mortals to see beyond the surface of rules:
Law’s Absolutism establishes order and fairness, demanding accountability and consistency.
Wisdom’s Mercy tempers severity, ensuring law does not harden into tyranny but serves the greater good.
It is in the tension between these forces that societies either fracture or flourish. The Sphinx counsels patience, reminding mortals that true justice is not swayed by vengeance, nor should it be deaf to compassion.
Patronage of the Sphinx
The Sphinx favors those who seek truth within complexity, rewarding those who pursue harmony over dominance:
Barristers who defend fairness with both precision and compassion.
Reformers who challenge laws that no longer serve the people.
Orators whose words stir understanding and call forth empathy.
Mediators who settle disputes not through force, but through reason and balance.
The Sphinx teaches that law must be firm yet benevolent, unyielding yet adaptable. Its riddles remind mortals that each judgment must look not only at what is written but at what is right. In this way, it protects the vulnerable and restrains the powerful, fostering a society where justice does not serve ambition but the well-being of all.
The Caution of the Djinn and the Sphinx
In the days when Chalameria was still shaping its soul, two voices whispered into the hearts of mortals. One was silver-tongued, restless, and laughing—the Djinn. The other was quiet, measured, and enduring—the Sphinx. Between them lay the law, fragile and uncertain, waiting to be molded.
The Djinn spoke first, weaving chaos into clever words.
“See how your neighbor thrives? See how he prospers while you hunger? Take what is yours. The law permits it, if you bend it just so. If you read it narrowly, if you wield it sharply, you may cloak envy in the robe of justice. The law is a weapon—use it, and none may question you. Life is harsh, short, and cruel; to survive, one must grasp, strike, and justify. Mercy will only see you undone.” And many listened. For the Djinn’s words promised victory, vengeance, and power wrapped in the dignity of law. The statutes became snares, their letters twisted into chains. Families feuded, villages broke apart, and violence was blessed with the seal of legitimacy. What could not be taken by hand was seized by writ, until the law itself became another battlefield.
But the Sphinx did not contest the Djinn with volume or trickery. It watched. It waited. And then, when asked, it answered with quiet clarity.
“The law is not meant to be twisted for gain, nor wielded as a sword against the weak. It is a covenant, not a chain. Where the Djinn tempts you to take, I remind you to build. Where she tells you mercy is weakness, I show you it is the strength that binds the community together. Life may be fraught with danger, but people are not born as wolves—they are born with the capacity for good. Laws should not feed fear and suspicion, but nurture trust, fairness, and understanding. The law must be measured by its spirit, not its letter alone.” Those who heeded the Sphinx found peace among themselves. Their villages prospered, their disputes softened by wisdom, their judgments tempered by compassion. They discovered that law, rightly crafted, was not a weapon but a shelter: a roof raised by many hands, under which even the weakest could rest securely.
Yet the Djinn never ceased its whispering. It found new ears, new ambitions to stoke, reminding mortals how easy it was to bend the rules for advantage, how simple to justify cruelty when cloaked in legality. For every community that thrived under the Sphinx’s wisdom, another fell to ruin under the Djinn’s mischief. Thus the tale is told as a warning: that law without mercy becomes tyranny, and mercy without law invites chaos. The Djinn thrives in confusion, whispering that life is nasty, brutish, and short, and that only strength sanctifies. The Sphinx answers in patience, reminding us that people are capable of good, that law should be the loom upon which compassion and justice are woven together.
The choice is ever before the people of Chalameria: heed the Djinn and find ruin dressed in legality, or listen to the Sphinx and build a society worthy of endurance.
The Order of Voskis and The Boon of the Sphinx
Smoke and Mirrors: The Sphinx shrouds its truths in riddles, clouding the mind and twisting certainty into doubt. When its favor is upon you, commands fall away like sand through an open hand. Once per event, you may call upon this boon to gain a Resist Command. For no chain of words may bind the will that walks in mystery.
The Hidden Path: Alternatively, you could call upon the Sphinx’s riddles to light the unseen road. Once per event, you may reduce the time required for Meditation to three seconds, as clarity pierces the veil of confusion.
The Eternal Puzzle: As a last act, you may burn access to all boons at once, preventing yourself from invoking any boon for the entirety of the season. In return, the Sphinx grants a cryptic reward, for every answer only births another question. Once per season, you may invoke this boon as though you had successfully cast the Lore, Resonance, or Vision ritual, receiving your answer in the form of a cryptic response that may illuminate the truth—or leave you with even greater mysteries.
Special Note: Because of the Sphinx’s devotion to the letter of the law, the Eternal Puzzle may only be claimed if you have not invoked any boon from any Order during the season. This is the true sacrifice demanded by the Order of Voskis and the Sphinx: to relinquish all access to every boon for the entirety of the season in exchange for a singular glimpse into the Eternal Puzzle.