Motto: “Truth Wears a Thousand Masks.”
Domain: Espionage, Secrets, Manipulation
Symbol/Colours: A silver eclipse veiled by swirling clouds, set against a field of midnight blue and shadow-black, with accents of ash-grey.
Master of Whispers: Siran Dravenor
Overview
When words fail and swords fall silent, it is secrets that change the course of the Evergild.
House of Whispers moves in the spaces between — the silent corridors of Meridian House, the forgotten alleys of the city, the dreams of kings and the nightmares of commoners.
They do not shout their power. They do not parade their banners. Yet no House, no guild, no soul in the Evergild is truly free of their touch.
Born from ancient pacts of silence and unseen wars, House Dravenor long ago traded glory for influence. They are the gatherers of whispers, the brokers of truths too dangerous to name, the keepers of debts that bind even the mightiest hands.
To speak their name too loudly is to invite attention. To cross them is to vanish without echo.
No decree passes in Meridian House, no treaty is signed, no alliance forged, without their silent blessing — or silent threat.
Domain
Their seat, the Gloamhall, lies hidden within the city’s oldest quarter — a labyrinthine manor of secret passages, shifting corridors, and rooms that seem to listen.
Its true heart, they say, is unreachable without permission — a place where debts are tallied, illusions spun, and the city’s future is whispered into being.
Beyond Gloamhall, the Dravenor influence stretches through the Silent Quarters — a hidden network of informants, spies, and shadowcourts threaded through the veins of the Evergild.
Few who walk those streets know when they pass a Dravenor eye. Fewer still live long if they seek to uncover it.
But not all secrets dwell in cities.
Far from Lindral’s spires, in a place unnamed on any map, lies the true estate of House Dravenor — known only as the Hollow to those few who speak of it at all.
Some say it is carved into a cliffside veiled in mist; others, that it shifts its location like a mirage, anchored only by shadow and will. Its walls are said to drink sound, its mirrors to reflect not faces, but truths. There are no servants, only watchers. No windows, only listening stones.
Those who are summoned to the Hollow rarely speak of what they saw — if they return at all.
It is here, far from the crowded courts and watching eyes, that the deepest debts are settled, and the oldest pacts maintained. It is not a place of punishment, but of precision — where influence is refined like poison, drop by deliberate drop.
Notable Subsections
- The Shadowtongues: Masters of intelligence, subterfuge, and psychological warfare. Every secret has a price — and they are the ones who set it.
- The Veilweavers: Illusionists and perception-shapers; unseen artists who twist truth, memory, and appearance to suit the House’s will.
- The Black Ledger: Silent keepers of debts, favours, and blood-oaths owed across the realm — a power greater than armies.
Notable Members
(Note: Though Dravenor is the formal name, many operatives work under false surnames, titles, or even entire lives; only the true bloodlines know their own.)
- Siran Dravenor — Current Head of House; a master manipulator whose hands guide far more of the Council’s decisions than most dare admit.
- Velisse Shade — Veilweaver of renown; her illusions have turned battles before they were fought, and kings against their own blood.
- Tarn Black — Keeper of the Black Ledger; said to hold the true debts of every major House — and to have paid his own long ago, with something far worse than coin.
Whispers of Note
- It is rumoured that beneath Gloamhall lies the Cavern of Forgotten Names — a vault where the true identities of every major agent, oathbreaker, and traitor are kept, bound by magic and threat.
- Some claim the Black Ledger holds not just mortal debts, but debts owed by ancient powers, bargains struck in blood and shadow long before the city’s founding.
- There are whispered fears that House Dravenor no longer simply records the flow of secrets — they shape them, rewriting truth itself to suit their unseen aims.