Qadoris Organization in Eramon | World Anvil
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Thin, spire-like mountains rise from cold deserts swept by eerie, howling winds. Surreal rock formations contort like fossilised dancers amid this strange, arid wilderness; are they formed by nature, or spawned by the whim of some mad sorcerer? Does the lightning that flashes purple, green and red upon that peak come from the storm gathering there, or from the windows of some claw-topped tower where a wizard bends the rules of space and time? Is that whispering merely the wind in the rocks, or a fell spirit seeking the eager ear of its next Warlock protege? 
  Welcome to Qadoris, Land of Mysteries and Kingdom of Mages. This vast, sprawling land of deserts, canyons and peaks may seem empty of humanoid life, but a closer glimpse beyond the mirage reveals a land honeycombed with the remains of countless wizardly civilisations of the past as well as the turbulent city-states of those present. Ancient and decadent, Qadoris' city-states bicker and scheme amongst themselves whilst growing fat on mercantile goods and the gold of other lands - for even the traditional enemies of Wicked Qadoris will cough up an endless stream of gold for even the most meagre enchanted trinket from the wizard realm's markets of magecraft. Wealthy merchant dynasties rule the city-states in practice, for the true movers and shakers of Qadoris rarely concern themselves with the petty cesspool of everyday politics, save where such trivial matters interfere with their grander schemes.   The uppermost caste of Qadoris, including the nominal ruler of every city state, are magic-users of various types, either operating as lone archmagi or collected into labyrinthine orders, covens, colleges, cabals and councils. Politics in Qadoris is a lethal, invisible maze of spiderwebs for the unwary, where no secret is safe, any chamber may have invisible scrying ears and eyes, and every operative may be a spy for a cunning enemy whether by their own will or not. Illusion, shapeshifting, mind control, divination, summoned spirits and minions and interplanar mischief are expected tools of any dabbler in Qadoric power games - child's play for the true masters - and form a mind-boggling gauntlet that easily devours the underprepared. Guilds of thieves, spies and assassins almost as elaborate as those of the mages flitter through the underbellies of every Qadoric city, doing the dirty work of unseen masters, and all of these, too, are by necessity familiar with the ways of magic, if they are not themselves users of the art...   For those who shun such a perilous rat-race, the price of freedom is perpetual paranoia and isolation - and that is just what many spellcasters choose, sequestering themselves in any of the innumerable sorcerous towers thrust up like slender stone cacti from every secluded nook of the Qadoric desert. Beneath the sands, too, lies a mad rabbit's warren of tombs, mazes, and deathtrap dungeons designed to safeguard the secrets of generations of spellcasters. Adventurers whisper tales of this land near and far, but it is a brave or foolhardy band indeed that risks the mystical wards placed on such unimaginable treasures...
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