Guild Members

Bishop is amongst the first to hear the song of Memoire and acts as Ambassador to Terres du Sud.

He is mainly concerned with the reputation , culture and community of the Curators.

Grundo was born the second son to a prosperous merchant family in the Cité des Sables, expected to follow in his father's maritime trade business. While his elder brother embraced the family ledgers, Grundo found himself drawn to distant horizons rather than the exchange of goods that had made his lineage wealthy.

When the opportunity arose, Grundo abandoned his inheritance and sailed for Terres Du Sud. There he heard a haunting melody that called to him, following it to an ancient tomb where Mémoire waited.Here, Grundo found his true calling as a Curator of the Shifting Veil.

Handsome

I am just a sad lil scot in an chubby american's body.

I draw, I craft, I steal things. As Memoire once said, "Art a-drift is art a-gift"!

I am what I am in the moment ;P

Artair McKays left his home behind to seek adventure. Along his journey he heard a call and had an unexpected encounter with a siren who stole his soul. Now he looks for adventure and ways to safe guard himself from having his soul used against him.

Long time nerd new to LARP. I have worked blue collar most my life and refused to let it beat the whimsy out of me. My best friend, Tel, tends to drag me to social events and I have yet to regret letting him, hence my introduction to the Curators.

Just happy to be here

coming soon…

Water Wizard.

Nestled between a chilly bay breeze and a slumbering violet mountain laid a salt-soaked settlement I called home. One fateful evening, as the last light faded, an unearthly roar erupted from the lonesome mountain, which began to tremble as if awakened. A jagged mouth had formed from its peak and began to spill over down the mountain, descending towards the town with an indiscriminate hunger.

The townsfolk, now gripped by this racing nightmare hurriedly sought shelter, huddling near flickering flames as the sopping darkness consumed everything between sky, land, and sea. Amidst the chaos, a great winged beast emerged from icy depths, its powerful wings slashing the town, intensifying the terror. The clash between the mountain's sinister mouth and grave beast’s claws unleashed a relentless fury, leaving the inhabitants only remnants of existence amidst the dying of the light.

And yet, as dawn broke the following morning, a gentle glow began to illuminate the remains of the town, which began to dispel last night’s frigid embrace. The Sun began to rise and like a heartbeat, beat life back into this tattered realm, calming the raging wings of wind and ocean. The townsfolk, now bolstered by the warmth of the healing rays, began to reclaim their spirits and land. The mountain began to stand and transform back into the proud sentinel overlooking this weather-worn town.

I shall soon not forget that with every nightfall comes a sunrise.

Post this particular onslaught, a change of pace I felt was needed. For the storms in this region began to weigh heavy and wear on the mind. Inspired by a local legend and cartographer, known as Orion Alerion, I decided to seek the lands of Terres du Sud. A place where warmth radiated not from its land, but from the fiery hearts and souls of its people. After a tough but fair haggle, I procured a map and set course for a new unknown, wrapped with anticipation of what to come.

(BICO/Memoire/Curators part WIP.)

Excommunicated knight turned brigand, Olivier is transient and searching for meaning.

HEMA practitioner, fencer, and duelist.

Your local slimy saleswoman. Purveyor of maps and other contraband

I am a little hobbit in search of adventure and new friends.

You want chocolate, i have chocolate

Themious was always someone who fancied himself a hero, it just doesn't always turn out that way for him.

An attempt to capture a thief ends with a village in flames, rescuing hostages from bandits lead to more captives taken, and vital military intelligence lost in a reckless bar room bet. It is these conundrums that he so often finds himself.

His methods can be confused with madness but his heart is in the right place (whether that matters to anyone else is questionable).

He travels the land with his companions, a Swindler and an Archer, in search of drink, coin and a cause worth joining (Or in the very least, somewhere less flammable).

Aspiring ethnomusicologist with no responsibilities, no personality, and no experience playing the viola.

I like turtles

Your local fox fae, who has more than likely just fallen for another curse ¯\_(ツ)_/¯