Experts, bards, rogues, illusionists, and clerics of Olladra or the Traveler (or any other faith that espouses the Trickery domain) are drawn to the ranks of the Hollow Shards. Joining the Shards is easy enough, since membership grants petitioners very little until they prove their dedication to the undermining of all things and the deception of others not only for profit, but also on principle.
To join the Shards is to draw back the veil on the relic trade in the city, and new members are dumbfounded to learn just how significant a portion of the items sold in the Marketplace are nothing more than worthless knock-offs. Older members love to regale novices with lists of their classic work on display in magically warded exhibits in Morgrave University as priceless relics and landmark discoveries “intrinsic to weaving the complex tapestry of Xen’drik’s long history.”
Herein lies the key to the Shards’ tremendous power. It is one thing to sell a fake wand to a fool of a wizard, but to create history itself and hoodwink an entire continent of scholars and researchers into buying your own personal version of the past’s most important moments . . . that is power beyond that of any dragon or rakshasa. The Shards erase gods and raise meager civilizations from obscurity to be memorialized as gloried kingdoms of a continent’s golden era . . . and this prodigious power is wielded by a ragtag collective of forgers, con artists, and thieves.