Helix's Clan

Weary wanderer, head hazed by Dust, sent to us from mind aetherial. Architect's will fills you, changes you, binds you with ancient pact.
Your body is yours, your protector, your balm when mind grows weary.
Flesh as aegis, mind as brush to paint.
Go, child, be free.

Trypan Company, an ecclesiarchal branch of the Plaguebringer's might. A lot of zealots who embrace change in all its facets, viewing Her as but Avatar to the concept of a whole. Well known for their entrenched place within Hellwell Undercroft and Plague's political dealings, they mainly supply trained soldiers for the many petty wars Plague leads upon the realm.

And yet, something seems off in their lands. Something that pulls at the soul and smarts the nose with familiarity. An existence parallel but still alien in origin, gazing down in vacant amusement. A presence whose only demand is to consume...