Foundry
THE FOUNDRY
The Venerated Republic is an empire born of struggle. The race of man fought for its freedom and its very existence under the banner of the Decusian faith for centuries upon centuries, and it was not until the sack of Nora Thryn in 405 AS that mankind could truly call itself free again. And so, at the dawning of a new age, bolstered by the perseverance of their fledgling kingdom, the Venerated Republic looked upon their war-torn land and said, “It is time to rebuild.”
Since that fateful day, the trade guild known as the Foundry has been present.
Through the Decusian faith a glorious dream was conceived, that of a united empire, realized in the Venerated Republic. But if the Decusian faith was the mind that conjured such a dream, then the ancient guild was the hand that lay the brick, the shovel that broke the ground, and the hammer that forged the sword. In short, this considerable body of crafters, laborers, and tradesmen had as much to do with the founding of the Venerated Republic as the Decusian faith, and has been around almost as long. Some say that their origins lie in the bloody years before the founding of the republic, when mankind sought shelter from their oppressors below the surface of the Eden, although more likely than not this is a tale perpetuated by those whose lives are highly invested in the prosperity of the guild.
What is known is that the Foundry was originally composed, as its name implies, of weaponsmiths and armorers. In this some aged wisdom is show, for the race of mankind has never left behind their need for implements of death; to wit, the demand for them has only grown. Philosophical inklings aside, the Foundry, possessed of such a strong foundation, soon expanded its domain to architecture and infrastructure, everything the fledgling kingdom needed to expand its borders.
And as the Venerated Republic grew (which it surely did) the Foundry grew alongside it. Knowing the guild as all men and women with sense do, it is hard to imagine the genesis of such a power, for its presence in the empire is truly that of a leviathan. One would be hard-pressed to find an aspect of the kingdom that the Foundry is not involved in, and one would be insane to try to find a legitimate businessman who operates without the Foundry’s consent, be he a part of the esteemed body or not. At its apex, the Foundry worked hand in hand with the Treasury of the Republic and was the premier supplier of every commodity on and off of Vitaveus. The financial health of the empire could be measured by that of the Foundry, for nearly all trade guilds and costers were tied to the Foundry network in one way or another.
But even a giant can be felled, and even a world can be shaken. The Torment caught the Venerated Republic unaware, and the maddening disease did not discriminate. It brought the mighty and the poor low, and it struck a great fear into the hearts of a great many people…especially those with the most to lose.
The Torment shattered trade lines and devoured resources hungrily. The fall of MacArtur’s Gate was another vicious blow, and in an effort to retake its holdings the powerful trade-guild funneled resources into the retrieval effort. They sailed alongside legionnaires, templars, and colonists, unsure of what would await them in the distant shores of the old colonies, unprepared for the precarious nature of their expedition, and unsure of what the future held for both themselves and the Venerated Republic.
The Foundry has been a great many things to a great many people, but after the Venerated Republic fell under the rule of the Church and Archbishop Anslem disowned the old colonies, it is doubtful that the Foundry was ever seen in the same light again. This catastrophe but a small part of a catalyst that crippled the once mighty giant and send cracks running through its foundation. Some councilors and seneschals of the guild, seeing portents of their doom, simply abandoned their brethren. Salvaging what they could, they undertook a great exodus to escape with what material wealth they could gather. Their plan; to continue to operate in safer climes far away from the ravages of the Torment or to hoard their wealth and live out the rest of their days in the relative safety and comfort that only large sums of money can buy.
That is not to say that there was agreement amongst those who remained. Meetings of the council often turned into little more than shouting matches; each representative on the Council of Seneschals had a different idea of how they should react or who they should align themselves with. Some worked under the mindset that a firm and authoritative trade guild would bolster the strength of this “new” Republic and lead them to better days, while others simply struggled to hold on to the power they had known before the days of the Resolve.
One thing was agreed upon, however; by some chance of fate, the Foundry had not earned the wroth of the Church, who now stood astride the Republic like a wounded titan; injured yet still powerful. The importance of this, said the Council of Seneschals, was not to be overlooked. The Foundry was in a unique position to continue their service without the encumbering conditions imposed upon all the other factions. As long as they protected their assets, it was said, they could yet survive in this splintered nation.
All resources were to be consolidated; all assets were to be guarded with the utmost vigilance. The Church of Decus was to be given every measure of respect; though many still felt as if the College of Bishops had betrayed the Republic, in truth it did not matter who was in charge; just as long as their was relative peace, just as long as discord within the Republic was kept to a minimum, trade would flourish. Even after the fall of the colonies there was hope for a revival and a new day for the Republic.
Yet the new day that the Foundry so desperately craved turned out instead to be night. When the Everdark fell upon Eden as if to mourn the passing of the Republic, all contact with the outside world was lost. The Foundry had to their names not an empire, but a city. Things needed to change, and change they did. Now more invested in politics and humanitarianism than ever, the guildsmen in Tor have a new goal in mind; not profit, not power, but simply survival.
And so, firm in their belief that through their intervention and technology mankind would be saved, they turned they focused their efforts on Tor… for they had an empire to rebuild, and their path had come full circle. With no minor trepadation they looked upon their shattered empire and said, “It is time to rebuild.”