The Council of Or is the governing body of the City of Or, responsible for overseeing the city's laws, infrastructure, trade regulations, civil services, and cultural traditions. Though closely tied to the powerful Flatstone family, the council incorporates both hereditary leadership and citizen representation, forming a unique blend of authority and civic involvement.
While its decisions are often swift and decisive, the council is also known for its unusually robust transparency, particularly given its deep dwarven roots. Debate is encouraged within the chamber, and it is said that a Flatstone argument is more honest than a silent agreement.
The Council of Or consists of seventeen members:
The council chamber is carved into a polished cavern at the heart of Stonehollow, the city’s interior centre. Runes of listening, honesty, and binding debate line the walls, and a floating lantern of red crystal casts gentle light during every session.
The Flatstone family holds an ancestral claim to governance, tracing their roots to Or Flatstone, the city’s founder. Each generation of Flatstones selects twelve representatives to serve as lifelong councillors, though individuals may be replaced in cases of incapacity or disgrace.
Though dwarves are famously stubborn, the Flatstones are rarely united. Their internal disagreements—often loud and public—form a strange kind of balance, ensuring no single vision dominates unchallenged. It is not uncommon for elected councillors to act as tie-breakers between feuding Flatstone factions.
The family’s influence is greatest in matters of mining, resource management, and diplomacy with other major Scales.
Twelve members of the Flatstone family are permanently appointed to the Council of Or. While all share a common ancestry and a deep loyalty to the city's founding legacy, their views, approaches, and tempers differ dramatically.
The current Flatstone councillors are:
Each of these councillors wields significant authority over specific aspects of the city's governance. Although united by name, their opinions diverge so sharply that even minor policy debates can last weeks—unless someone brings ale.
Every three years, a city-wide celebration and trial event known as the Election Festival is held, wherein any eligible citizen may compete for one of the five elected seats.
These trials, while partly farcical and often soaked in local ale, ultimately result in the selection of candidates who have won both public favour and practical trials. Elected councillors are expected to suspend all business interests during their term and serve as full-time civil representatives.
In practice, elected members hold considerable power over civic planning, infrastructure, market regulation, festival management, and day-to-day policies that affect Orfolk directly.
To stand for election, a citizen must:
Sitting councillors are strictly prohibited from engaging in business or lobbying. Corruption—should it occur—is punished swiftly and publicly, often resulting in expulsion, banishment, or worse. Due to the city's firm cultural stance on fairness and transparency, cases of corruption are extremely rare, though whispered rumours suggest that the Oblique Concord may play a quiet role in keeping the worst influences at bay.
Council meetings are open to registered observers and recorded by a trio of official scribes, each from a different district to ensure neutrality. Meetings are held weekly, with emergency sessions called at the discretion of any three councillors.
Debates are known for their passion, poetic insults, and occasional musical interludes—particularly if Tallis Thorne has recently visited the chamber.
Disagreements are not only tolerated but encouraged, and it is a point of pride that council members rarely speak with one voice unless absolutely necessary.
To outsiders, the Council of Or may appear autocratic or overly dominated by a single family. But to the citizens of Or, the council is a living, argumentative, deeply flawed but ultimately fair machine.
Most Orfolk agree that while the Flatstones are powerful, their grip is not absolute—and the Election Trials give every citizen a voice, or at least a very entertaining chance to try.