I showed this post to a friend from Brazil from my RPG group, the group's artist, he really liked the Lurkers history and decided to make a drawing. I'm sharing his art.

His Instagram is @luisoctavionb for those who want to know a little more about his drawings.

Cheers

The Itapetinguev Monastery, a place of peace and reflection... that was corrupted by demonic influences.

The Story of Corrun, the Exile of Wisdom

In ancient times, when kingdoms fought for glory through steel and faith, there was a man whose power came not from the blade, but from the mind. His name was Corrun, the son of peasants, but adopted by the elders of a court eager for oracles and advice. From a very young age, he demonstrated a rare intelligence, a clarity of thought that overshadowed even the most renowned scholars. Corrun read the stars, deciphered dead languages, understood the cycles of the visible and invisible worlds with equal diligence.

For decades, he served unstable thrones, advising kings in wars and treaties, preventing disasters and shaping the destinies of the poor and the rich. His word was law among nobles, and his presence was feared and at the same time revered. But the higher he rose in the esteem of the powerful, the more he became disgusted with human vanity. The halls were filled with empty words, feasts in the midst of famine, and kings who used wisdom as an adornment, not as a beacon.

Tired of the hypocrisy and futility of the courts, Corrun abandoned everything—his robes of counsel, his titles, and his name in the chronicles—and disappeared from the eyes of the world. Some say he left after a dark omen, a vision that the kingdoms he had helped build would drown in blood and forgetfulness.

In the solitude of a road's end, under an eternal sky and among meadows where only the wind dared to sing, Corrun founded a monastery of the Black Stone, humble and severe. There, together with a few disciples who had also renounced the vanities of the world, he laid the foundations of what would come to be known as the Order of the Manuscritori, monks of silence and writing.

The Manuscritori, Keepers of the Living Word

The monks of St. Curron—so named after his death—are known for their devotion to the preservation of knowledge. They believe that words have spirit, and that each letter drawn is a spark of ancient power. Inspired by the spread of knowledge, they developed forms of enchanted calligraphy, where each page is both a mirror of the soul and a spell in repose.

Monastic Life

At the monastery, days begin with chanting in the Inner Cloister, where voices rise in ritualistic harmony, echoing through the covered stone corridors. Meals are silent, shared with reverence. The herb gardens, arranged in alchemical circles, are both medicinal laboratories and places of spiritual revelation.

The monks dress in simple robes made of dark wool, covered with symbols embroidered with silver thread and dried blood—marks of protection and wisdom. There, their study of the visible and invisible world is uninterrupted: they study stars, anatomy, poisons and medicines, dreams and runes.

The Three Vows

The Order is based on three sacred vows:

• Silence, to hear the echo of the spirit and the whispers of forgotten books.

• Knowledge, to never cease the search, for knowledge is infinite and changeable.

• Harmony, to live in harmony with the rhythms of the earth, the moon, the seasons and the ancient gods.

Corrun's Legacy

It is said that Corrun did not die like ordinary men. On his stone bed, surrounded by his disciples, his body became light and words, transforming himself into a book that can never be read in its entirety, for its pages continue to write themselves, revealing new truths over the time.

Some claim that the monastery itself is alive, built of enchanted stones that move subtly with the lunar cycles, hiding rooms and revealing secrets only to those who are ready. Others say that Corrun wanders among the trees of the garden, like a spirit of smoke and low voice, guiding the most devout.

Influence on the World

Though remote, the Manuscritori have a subtle presence across the continent. Mages, kings, and hermits seek their blessing. Manuscripts from their hands emerge at key moments in history—an impossible peace treaty, a lost cure, a spell that seals ancient horrors.

Those who return from St. Corrun rarely speak of what they saw. But their eyes glow with a new flame—as if they have gazed into the abyss of knowledge and come away not unharmed, but transformed.

3 - Skeleton Coast

Drul’Kaz – The Cave of Bones

Many years ago, the winter that claimed the Drul’Kaz family was the cruelest the plains of Brukon had ever seen. It came swiftly and without warning, a storm like no other where the winds cut like a butcher’s knife and the snow piled up like never before, swallowing the paths and silencing the forests. No game roamed the fields. The rivers froze to their beds and even the hungry wolves that prowled the camps were found dead, petrified by the relentless cold.

It was in this season of death that a large orc family, 61 souls in all, found refuge in a deep cavern hidden among hills of black stone. They were on the move, fleeing the cold, trying to reach milder lands before the worst of winter reached them. But the storm surprised them. The wind howled like a hungry beast, blinding them with snow and biting ice. The elders stumbled, the children cried, and the strongest warriors barely made their way.

Their leader, Urgor, a seasoned hunter, knew they could not go on. If they tried to advance, they would die one by one, buried in the snow. Then they found the cave—a dark cleft between the rocks, just wide enough to shelter them. Here, they thought, they could survive until spring came. They lit fires, cooked the last bits of dried meat, and waited.

But spring never came for them.

Days passed, and the flames began to fade. The wood was brought in, and the cave grew cold as a tomb. The air grew heavier each night. The voices became whispers. Then, one by one, they began to disappear.

The children were the first. Alone in the darkness, their eyes open but their bodies still. Then came the elders. Urgor ordered that no one should sleep alone, but it was useless—every day, fewer orcs remained to watch over the living. Some tried to escape, but the storm outside seemed more cruel than what awaited them inside. Others begged the spirits, but their prayers went unanswered.

When winter finally gave way and the snows began to melt, a group of hunters found the entrance to Drul’Kaz. The smell of death did not greet them. Only silence. They entered the cave expecting to find scattered bones, remains of a tragedy like so many others in the cold of Brukon.

What they saw probably haunted them for the rest of their lives.

The 61 orcs were still there. Their bodies were perfectly preserved, as if they had just gone to sleep. Their eyes were open, fixed on the ceiling of the cave, their expressions frozen in a mixture of surprise and horror. No sign of struggle, no apparent illness. Just an entire family, eternally trapped between life and death.

News like this soon spread, and so the stories began. Some shamans said that Drul’Kaz was a sacred tomb, a portal between the living and the dead. Others say that those who died there were not truly dead—that they could still see, hear, and feel the passing of the years, but were unable to move. Some swore they saw the eyes of the dead blinking as they entered the cave.

Since then, Drul’Kaz has become a place of fear and reverence. No tribe approaches without need. The boldest shamans sometimes go to its entrance to seek visions, but few dare enter. For the orcs, the fate of warriors must be to return to the earth to be covered once more by snow. But those who died there never returned. They never left. And if they are still there, waiting, no one cares.

Hy @Royal Scribe !

I was looking at your post and was intrigued by the challenge. I had never thought too about creating a castle in the clouds before. So while watching a boxing match I made this small "Close up" image (size 40x50 - metric). I only used images from Mike Schley style and attach the FCW file in case you want to take a look.

Cheers