Factions

        The Alluring Dandelion cast its lot with the rebellion kindled by The Lone Delphinium, its choice born not of necessity, but of envy — a bitter yearning for the affection shared between The Succulent Marigold and The Burning Lily. Though their city now stands tall and gleaming upon the stone, its name, Underidge, echoes not pride, but heritage scarred by neglect and disdain.

        Long ago, the fief granted to Lady Invidia, scion of The Alluring Dandelion, lay nestled at the mountain’s base, along the treacherous route to Rabbit Hutch. Hidden in shadow and ill-positioned, the settlement was often the prey of raiders, its cries swallowed by the peaks above.

        In one such hour of need — when an assault came fierce and well-planned — Lady Invidia turned to The Burning Lily, pleading for aid to safeguard Goldenglough. But no aid came. She was coldly told that it was her burden alone to bear. Thus, her people bled — alone and forgotten.

        Wounded by this betrayal, Invidia led her survivors to the harsh land of Emberdale. There, beneath her banner, they shed their titles and took up steel, becoming mercenaries in a world that had shown them no mercy.

        Through the passing of years, Lady Invidia bore silent witness to the blooming closeness between The Succulent Marigold and The Burning Lily — a bond warm and radiant, yet forever out of reach. The ache of envy did not fade; it festered. Invidia swore never again to kneel or beg. She gathered strength, souls hardened by exile, and from their resolve a town was born.

        What began as a mere camp of exiles grew, fed by coin and conquest. In time, stone replaced timber, walls rose, and Underidge emerged — not only a stronghold, but a city. A city forged by resentment, its name a quiet blade drawn against The Burning Lily, a curse wrapped in stone and ash.

        Though Lady Invidia still envies the warmth that lingers between Marigold and Lily, she no longer grovels for favor. She watches now from her own mountain, sovereign in her sorrow, and casts no loyalty to the crown she once served.

        Yet beneath the iron of her rule, something stirs — for among her few companions stands Humanitas, loyal servant of The Burning Lily, yet drawn ever toward Invidia. Between them lies an impossible affection — one born of contrast, perhaps even hope. Whether it shall soften envy or break kindness remains unwritten.