Litigators of the Arcane. Smugglers of Loopholes. Trusted by no one.
Slogan: "Justice served with a quill, a contract, and a side of wool."
Unofficial Slogan: "Because even constructs deserve a proper grumble."
Motive: To protect the legally entangled, advocate for arcane ethics and construct rights, and provide dignified solutions to undignified problems — all while maintaining immaculate documentation.
Unofficial Mascot: A stern-looking goat in pince-nez glasses and a silk cravat, affectionately nicknamed Justice Baa-rbara. Frequently spotted nibbling paperwork or headbutting poorly written contracts.
Moonsworth & Sage is one of Calad Bar's most notorious boutique legal firms — not for its power, but for its style. Founded decades ago by a brilliant but reclusive solicitor named Sage, the firm originally specialised in interplanar contracts, unusual inheritances, and the occasional extraplanar cease-and-desist.
The firm's current senior partner is Mr. Vesper T. Moonsworth, Esq., a charismatic Astral Elf, who began as Sage's junior legal clerk — a quiet, well-read assistant with a fondness for rules, rituals, and very long footnotes. Over the years, Moonsworth rose through the ranks with uncanny speed, eventually becoming Sage's right hand — and, after Sage's untimely and unsolved death, sole surviving partner.
The firm was rebranded shortly after: Moonsworth & Sage — "for legacy and sentiment," as Moonsworth claimed at the time.
Since then, it has become an eccentric but effective presence in Calad Bar's legal and diplomatic scene, handling everything from golem licensing appeals to minor divine treaty arbitrations — with a particular speciality in construct rights, championing the cause of sentient constructs seeking personhood, freedom, and occasionally holiday pay.
Moonsworth & Sage currently offers:
Monthly community seminars include:
The firm is also rumoured to offer emergency pocket-plane consultation, contractual duelling proxies, and slogan writing for lawful entities with terrible branding.
The firm exudes the quiet menace of a library that knows what you did.
Every room is lined with shelves, scrolls, and lawbooks older than some pantheons. The air smells faintly of wax seals, contingency clauses, and goat fur. There is always the sound of quills scratching, even when no one is writing. Visitors report feeling like they've already signed something just by entering.
Staff wear robes with reinforced shoulder pads. The conference table is a rune-inscribed circle that rotates when no one's looking. Clients are offered tea, biscuits, and a waiver.
Justice Baa-rbara, the firm's unofficial mascot goat, roams freely. She bites only when the contracts are sloppy.
Tucked between the city council and the opera, the office occupies a modest four-storey structure known as Clause House. It exists simultaneously in Calad Bar, a pocket dimension shaped like a ledger, and — on Thursdays — a basement that doesn’t legally belong to anyone.
The building is difficult to enter without intent and impossible to exit without signing something. Its windows show entirely different realities depending on your case.
There is no receptionist. Just a very patient clerical illusion and a pen that always knows your name.
Mr. Vesper T. Moonsworth, Esq. is an Astral Elf with impossibly tailored robes, an unnecessarily long title, and the charisma of a courtroom ghost who writes angry letters to the editor.
Once a junior clerk, Moonsworth ascended to partnership following Sage's demise. Since then, he has become a feared and respected figure among Calad Bar’s legal elite — mostly feared, but always returned to. He is calm, courteous, and capable of weaponising an ellipsis mid-sentence.
He is not to be underestimated. He may already have power of attorney over your left shoe.