The Pathfinders were, and ever are, an enigma. Since their first appearance amongst the races of the Golden Circle nearly 600 years ago, the Pathfinders have gone to incredible lengths to maintain their secrecy, and for good reason. It is an unquestionable fact that the Pathfinders are more powerful than any government or organization known to the Golden Circle. While the free-thinkers and innovators of each Shard-world have managed to scrape up a rudimentary knowledge of the Deep and its inner-workings, the Pathfinders seem to have a preternatural ability that far surpasses even that of the skilled shapers of U'shen.

The aura of mystery that surrounds them is only thickened by the fact that the Pathfinders are not of any race known to the Golden Circle. They are of average height and build, with varying colors of hair, and skin tone ranging from the light pink to the dusky brown. In all ways they are as unassuming as possible, and in appearance are close enough to all the races of the Golden Circle as to be almost unnoticeable unless they display the bronze open hand which is their sigil. ( An OOC note about the Pathfinders appearance: For simplicity's sake, the Pathfinders are human. They are the only humans to be found in the Shattered Realms. )

While the Order has many chapterhouses and recruiting centers scattered throughout the nations of the Golden Circle, the location of their headquarters remains a mystery. All that is known of the Sundered City, (as many people have come to call it), is that it lies somewhere in the Shallows. Floating alone in the shifting echoes at the heart of the Golden Circle, the Sundered City, as rumor has it, never stays in the same place and is guarded by a maze of Bursts and deadly Tempests that can undo even the most skilled shaper. While there is no proof to back up these rumors, it remains a fact that no one traveling into the Shallows with the intent of finding the Sundered City has ever returned to tell the tale.

The history of the Pathfinders, like their very existence, is thoroughly muddled. This much is known for certain.

During the height of The Shapers War, specifically the period of intense violence between the Ikarrii and the U'shii, when huge protracted battles were taking place within the Deep, the Pathfinders appeared like a sudden wind. With diplomacy and the occasional display of raw power, the Pathfinders, over a period of 70 years, were able to end the strife between the Shards and open up peace talks. Many treaties were proposed and discarded by the delegates, who did all the talking while the Pathfinders merely kept the peace. But frustration soon drove the great leaders to turn to the Pathfinders, asking them for a more direct involvement in the process. Whether or not the leaders amongst the Pathfinders were waiting for that exact moment is a matter of some debate to this day. They did seem unnaturally prepared for the request.

Almost immediately, the First Hand of the Order, a man named Cadmn Delos, laid out a complex but brilliant set of laws and treaties that the shocked delegates barely hesitated in accepting. Amongst the many stipulations of what would come to be called the Cadmnian Accord, was a condition that the Pathfinders be appointed as an impartial but unquestionable peace keeping force, with the added duty of policing the Deep. In recent years, many leaders who have easily forgotten the impressive acts of power that the Pathfinders used to convince those delegates, have come to question the Order's iron-fisted control over the Deep and its boundless commodities. Only the unexplained disappearances of past rulers who were foolish enough to cross the Pathfinders keep the present-day leaders in check.

Over the next 600 years, the Pathfinders continued to cement their image as an all-powerful Order with frightening, god-like powers and abilities. But rather than stir up fear or animosity, the Pathfinders continually performed acts of incredible generosity that stunned the Shards with their scope. When the 6 nations of the Golden Circle celebrated the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Cadmnian Accord, the Order unveiled a system of roads, by which mundane people could travel between the Shards without having to travel with a Shaper or a member of the Order. The Spans were impressive constructs that immediately allowed trade and intre-communication between the Shard-worlds to flourish. This gift remains one of the most important events since the signing of the Cadmnian Accord. And it wasn't the last.

A hundred years later, the Pathfinders opened their doors for the first time. Chapterhouses and recruiting facilities opened in hundreds of cities throughout the Golden Circle, beckoning to those who showed an ability for shaping. Thousands made pilgrimages to these cities, to see if they had what it took to become a Pathfinder. Many were turned away, but those who were accepted became the first in a long line of Pathfinders known collectively as The Seekers.

This was the Pathfinders second great gift to the Golden Circle. Anyone with the ability to Shape could join the Seekers to learn the ways of the Deep. As with all things known about the Pathfinders, it is a matter of debate whether the Seekers were taught everything. It is known for certain that only Seekers of the highest rank are allowed access to the Sundered City.

To this day, the Pathfinders, and within them the Seekers, remain a powerful force amongst the governments of the Golden Circle. In recent decades the native Pathfinders, those that do not belong to any of the races of the Golden Circle, have either diminished in number, or stepped away from the public eye. It seems that more and more of late, only the silver eye emblem of the Seekers is seen in public, while the open hand of the Pathfinders has become rare enough to elicit all sorts of rumors.

The true secrets of the Pathfinders may never be known, not even to the Seekers. Many have tried, but many more see futility in the act. The Pathfinders have managed to keep their secrets for more than 600 years. And those that seek them with too much zeal have a nasty habit of vanishing without a trace.