The Rustpetal Covenant

 Where others see only weeds pushing through cracks of rusted stone, the Rustpetal Covenant sees prophecy. This hidden order believes that every corroded bloom - every flower sprouting from metal or ash - is a message from the forgotten gods of decay.

Their temples are not sanctuaries, but scrap heaps: twisted engines, shattered armor, skeletal machines draped in living blossoms. In these shrines, the cult chants to rust, watering flowers with blood, waiting for the day when all metal will finally grow wild.

Doctrine

The Covenant’s belief rests on one promise: life must learn to bloom from death, and machines must bleed like gardens.

• They seek to seed rust into living weapons and armor.
  
  

• They plant flowers inside wounds, claiming the petals consume corruption.
  
  

• They whisper that the true end of the world will come when every sword grows roots and every city blooms like a forest.
  
  

Practices

• Petal Offering: A ritual where members cut themselves and plant seeds inside the wound. Survivors gain strange resilience; the dead are buried beneath rusted soil.
  
  

• Rustchimes: Hanging chains of oxidized blades that ring with hollow sound, believed to draw the gods’ attention.
  
  

• Bloom Hosts: Certain devotees allow flowers to root in their lungs, breathing spores instead of air. These hosts are revered as living oracles.
  
  

For the Player

Characters who encounter the Covenant may be offered “blessings” in the form of grafted flora. Accepting grants temporary boons - poison resistance, regenerative growth - but at the cost of mutation and creeping dependency. Joining the Covenant can reshape a character’s identity as much as their body.

For the Storyteller

Use the Rustpetal Covenant to blur the line between horror and beauty. Their rituals are grotesque yet mesmerizing; their followers are zealots, yet strangely kind. They are not villains in their own eyes, but gardeners tending to the rusting body of the world.