Sebecloki presents the Rod of Seven Parts (Inactive)

Game Master Sebecloki

Set 1: 24d6 ⇒ (1, 2, 2, 2, 1, 6, 6, 3, 3, 6, 4, 3, 4, 2, 1, 2, 2, 3, 1, 5, 4, 3, 4, 6) = 76
Set 2: 24d6 ⇒ (3, 6, 1, 5, 5, 5, 4, 1, 6, 1, 1, 6, 6, 5, 3, 3, 1, 3, 3, 4, 2, 2, 1, 4) = 81
Set 3: 24d6 ⇒ (6, 4, 5, 1, 1, 6, 5, 6, 6, 2, 4, 6, 6, 2, 6, 1, 6, 6, 2, 5, 5, 2, 1, 6) = 100
Set 4: 24d6 ⇒ (3, 1, 4, 5, 1, 1, 4, 4, 3, 2, 6, 2, 3, 6, 2, 1, 3, 4, 5, 1, 5, 4, 2, 1) = 73
Set 5: 24d6 ⇒ (4, 3, 6, 3, 4, 3, 1, 5, 5, 3, 2, 5, 2, 3, 1, 3, 2, 4, 6, 1, 5, 4, 4, 4) = 83
Set 6: 24d6 ⇒ (6, 4, 1, 3, 1, 4, 6, 5, 1, 3, 6, 6, 6, 3, 1, 2, 2, 6, 1, 6, 1, 6, 1, 4) = 85
Set 7: 24d6 ⇒ (2, 4, 6, 2, 1, 2, 5, 4, 1, 4, 5, 5, 3, 3, 6, 1, 6, 3, 3, 6, 3, 6, 4, 1) = 86
Set 8: 24d6 ⇒ (2, 2, 2, 2, 5, 5, 2, 1, 4, 5, 4, 1, 5, 2, 6, 3, 3, 4, 2, 5, 5, 2, 2, 6) = 80
Set 9: 24d6 ⇒ (5, 5, 4, 6, 4, 3, 3, 3, 5, 4, 4, 6, 5, 2, 4, 4, 5, 1, 5, 1, 3, 1, 1, 1) = 85
Set 10: 24d6 ⇒ (5, 2, 1, 5, 4, 2, 4, 5, 6, 2, 2, 3, 4, 3, 2, 1, 5, 5, 4, 1, 2, 5, 4, 3) = 80
Set 11: 24d6 ⇒ (4, 6, 6, 5, 1, 2, 2, 2, 1, 1, 3, 1, 5, 2, 4, 2, 1, 6, 1, 3, 2, 3, 3, 5) = 71
Set 12: 24d6 ⇒ (3, 3, 5, 2, 2, 5, 5, 1, 4, 3, 2, 2, 5, 4, 2, 3, 3, 5, 2, 3, 4, 1, 3, 1) = 73

Set 3 is the clear winner there, so rather than reroll all the 1s, I'll just reroll those 1st.

Reroll Set 3 1s: 4d6 ⇒ (3, 1, 4, 4) = 12
Reroll: 1d6 ⇒ 1
Reroll: 1d6 ⇒ 1
Reroll: 1d6 ⇒ 1
Reroll: 1d6 ⇒ 5

The world had become sick and despoiled, overrun by all manner of beasts. Aberrations, undead monstrosities, and visitors from other planes of existence. Of these, none seemed to cause as much havoc as the fiends, at least to a certain chosen few. Some chose to rise up against the havoc wrought on the material plane and her worlds by all manner of devils and demons. Not only did these fiends create paths of destructions, damning and consuming mortal bodies and souls in their wake, but they also spread their filth into forever-corrupted mortal bloodlines. The Sacred Order of Celestial Knights was founded to wipe out this fiendish taint from the world by whatever means necessary.

At first, the Order focused on training and waging war, securing alliances with angels, archons, agathions, and azatas to crusade alongside them. But corruption often ran deep. There were cultists and oracles, yes. Sorcerers and bloodragers, too. But the most insidious in the eyes of the Order were the tieflings. These wretched, unfortunate souls were the most liable to be corrupted. They had to be hunted down and exterminated.

But this was not a war that could be fought in the traditional way. No, a new breed of capable and obedient soldier was needed to ferret out these aberrations to the divine order. A firmer alliance with Heaven was the best way to create an army focused on the Material Plane. Let the angels wage war on their own terms. The Sacred Order would borrow them for a carefully-arranged dalliance and create a mortal army that would inevitably fill the celestial host upon valorous and noble death in battle saving the world.

Lucian was the product of this careful breeding program by the zealots of the Order. He would be descended from a powerful general of the heavenly army: a Solar angel. His mother was a powerful arcanist fully dedicated to the Order’s mission, descending from a line of powerful wizards and sorcerers. And he was exposed to occult rituals designed to unlock latent psychic energies. Lucian was destined to be the spear pointed at the heart the fiendish army hiding in the shadows, ferreting out tiefling bastards across the world and putting them to the sword. It was righteous. It was just. It was…

It was something that Lucian never questioned. From his earliest days, he was told what to think, what to believe, and how to act, and he took it all, hook, line, and sinker. His parents were all the high-ranking members of the Order. Who exactly his father and mother were mattered little: they had provided what was needed, and were now fulfilling the rest of their duties. They trained Lucian well. He found cults led by these foolish devil-spawn. To save the world, they all had to die. Those were the orders. That was the education. That was the truth. They all had to die. Even the children…

Lucian felt that there was something wrong the first time that he peeled back the blanket from a bundle in a mother’s arms and witnessed the horns growing from the tiny head. There had been rumors that the woman had been seduced by a devil, had participated in profane mating rituals. But as she cried and begged Lucian not to take her child, he wondered whether there was truth to the rumors. He wondered whether there was truth to his church’s gospel. Was the infant damned merely because it existed? Or was there a chance for it to grow and choose its own fate? The Order made it abundantly clear to its adherents that there was no choice: all tieflings would eventually grow into their corruption. It was just a matter of time. It was the way of the world. It was…

It was years going through these motions: keeping the Order’s hands clean of the most challenging of jobs and bloodying his own. Lucian was well-respected and handomly paid. But he didn’t care about that. He prayed, worried for his immortal soul and those of the hundreds of people he slew. He was always assured that he was doing what was righteous and just, and that the gods would not continue blessing him with power if he was moving against their desires.

On return from one particularly grueling mission, Lucian stumbled into a scene that he had not expected. He had brought one tiefling back with him who claimed to have information about a very important person in an enormous gang. He was willing to talk in exchange for mercy. Lucian assumed that the mercy would be a quick death. Lucian never asked what happened with these prisoners, but he assumed that the Order had some way of purging them so that any fraction of their souls that could be redeemed found its best chance in the Boneyard. He still doesn’t quite know what possessed him, but he found his way towards a basement where they sent the tiefling informant.

Lucian remembers the smell more than anything else. They say that rot can have a sweet smell, but that’s a generous way to pick out something to try to focus on in the midst of a charnel house. The basement was the site of something Lucian still struggles to grasp: vivisections, doctors studying resistive and regenerative capabilities, clerics dunking tieflings into vats of holy water to study the effects. Lucian recognized some of them as tief…people he had captured years before. They were shells of their former selves, often missings horns, tails, eyes, arms, and legs. They were broken. It was merciless.

Seeing him, one of Lucian’s fathers tried to explain that this was for the greater good: that there was so much that could be studied on a native outsider that was much harder to study on beings who needed to be bound to the plane with powerful and expensive magic. Lucian couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing. This was torture. Wasn’t torture wrong? A tool of the enemy? Yes, and the cunning opponent learned to use his enemy’s tools against him.

Lucian drew his sword and slew his father. A rage boiled up within him and he began cutting down all of the people who had raised and trained him, showing them as little mercy as he had shown to all those he had killed or captured without question. The time for questions had gone, and no answers were forthcoming anyway. His answer was a new kind of judgment: a breaking away from the shackles of compliance and embracing of truth-discovered rather than truth spoon-fed.

Lucian rescued as many of the tiefling victims as he could and searched for a place to house and recover them. These long-time enemies became his wards. They feared him. They knew how merciless he could be. But he was also, compared to their captors and torturers, comparatively merciful. He still had little tolerance for failure against his standards, evolving as they were. But when someone had proven a disappointment, they could either be executed or remade. Remaking them was preferable. They didn’t even need an intact mind for some tasks. They could still be redeemed, and they were less likely to fight back.

Surprisingly, Lucian’s following is not merely made up exclusively of the original people that he rescued. He had gathered other followers since his destruction of the Sacred Order: others drawn to his brutal dispatching of zealots and hypocrites. He was beholden to no one but himself, and he inspired others to follow suit, building their own strength and taking life for what it was instead of what was promised. Destiny was folly. The only one who could control your fate was you, or someone stronger or cleverer than you. So you could either find someone to bind your cause to as you grew. Make it so that no one, not even the gods themselves, would dare question your autonomy.

Lucian serves no one but himself now. He surrounds himself with those he finds useful, and binds powers to him that suit his needs. He has made deals with enough fiendish patrons to know that his soul is damned, but he rejects this nonsense of cosmic morality. Evil was a word of limited use, used more to encapsulate an umbrella of activities supposedly opposed by good. But within these abstracts of good and evil were clusters of virtues and vices on either side. Why did one have to hew to one set of virtues and deny the other? Why could one not craft their own philosophy from the pieces of the misguided?

Lucian is no god. He is no angel. He is no demon. He is a man. That has to mean something in this life. This Rod of Seven Parts seems like as good of a place as any to start to show those who once tried to control him what it means to be a man.

Lucian looks like a golden idol: a statue of a man with glowing opal eyes and metallic wings glimmering with jewels. He wears shining mithral full plate armor and wields the same scimitar that once served him when he served the damnable forces of hypocritical good. He still looks the part of the holy warrior of old, and carries the reputation with those who do not know of his more recent activities and associations. His raven familiar, Albus, a charcoal black corvid, perches near constant on his shoulder, whispering to him of secrets and untapped powers. Although he serves no god in particular, he has grown fond in particular of an enormous roc that he summons from the depths of Abaddon, a favored pet of Charon himself. He will often ride this great beast through the skies, or else step into the shadows and travel swiftly on the ethereal strands diving planes.

Lucian
Male angelkin aasimar Insinuator antipaladin 15 /gestalt/ Hate-Monger mesmerist 15, Champion 5
NE Medium outsider (native, mythic)
Init +8; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +20
Aura ambition (10 ft.), belief (10 ft.), cowardice (10 ft.), despair (10 ft.), ego (10 ft.), glory (10 ft.), sin (10 ft.), vengeance (10 ft.)
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Defense
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AC 34, touch 15, flat-footed 31 (+12 Armor, +3 Dex, +5 Shield, +2 natural, +2 deflection)
hp 250 (15d10+100)
Fort +26, Ref +25, Will +24 (+2 vs evil)
DR 10/adamantine (100 points)
Immune disease, electricity, fire
Resist cold 10, acid 5
Defensive Abilities hard to kill, mythic saving throws, plague bringer, stubborn health, detects as true neutral
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Offense
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Speed: 60 ft. (40 ft. in armor)
Melee: +4 adamantine scimitar +30/30/25 (1d6+14/15-20/x3, +5 to confirm critical hits), 2 wings +20/20 (1d4+5/x2)
Special Attacks: Bold Stare (psychic inception, disorientation, nightmare, sapped magic), Champion’s Strike (fleet charge), Channel Negative Energy (DC 25, 8d6; 4d6 positive if channeling neutral outsider), Combat Stamina (19/19), Divine Surge (inspired spell), Ever Ready (+5, +1), Fleet Warrior, Hypnotic Stare (-3 (-4 w/ tattoo), 40 ft., -2 attack vs mesmerist), Impossible Speed (+30 ft. (+20 ft. in armor), +50 ft. (+35 ft. in armor)), Maneuver Expert, Manifold Tricks (4), Mental Potency (+3), Mesmerist Tricks 15+1/day (compel alacrity, gift of will, mesmeric mirror, vision of blood), Metamagic Adept (4/day), Mythic Power (13/day, surge +1d8), Out for Blood (+7), Painful Stare (+7 or +7d6+7 and blinded, 4/round), Precision, Smite Good 5/day (+8 attack and AC, +15 damage) or Smite Impudence 5/day (+8 attack, +7 damage, +15 temp hp), Touch Treatment (10/day), Xenophobe (Favored Enemy (Outsider (native) +6)

Spell-Like (or Item*) Abilities (CL 15th; concentration +23)
Constant—arcane sight*, ghost touch*
10 rounds/day—haste* (self only, free action)
3/day—ignore armor’s speed reduction for 1 round*
1/day—alter self, daylight*, freedom of movement* (10 minutes), see invisibility* spiritsense 1 hour
Antipaladin Spell-Like Abilities (CL 15th; concentration +23)
At will—detect balance, detect good
Antipaladin Spells Prepared (CL 14th; concentration +22)
4th—banishing blade (DC 22), dimensional blade, unholy sword, wall of bone
3rd—claim identity (DC 21), deadly juggernaut, dispel magic, litany of escape, second wind
2nd—blade tutor’s spirit, darkness, ironskin, sense vitals, silence (DC 20)
1st—barbed chains (DC 19), boneshaker (2) (DC 19), hedging weapons (2), opportunistic loyalty (2) (DC 25)
0 (at will)—create water, enhanced diplomacy, guidance, mending
Mesmerist Spells Known (CL 15th; concentration +23)
5th (4/day)—feeblemind (DC 29), mind fog (DC 29), monstrous physique iii, shadow evocation (DC 23), shadow walk, song of discord (DC 29)
4th (7/day)—arcane eye, dimension door, dominate person (DC 28), emergency force sphere, greater forbid action (DC 28), hold monster (DC 28), greater invisibility, mass charm person (DC 28), modify memory (DC 28), shadow conjuration (DC 22)
3rd (8/day)—assume appearance, charm monster (DC 27), conditional curse (DC 21), confusion (DC 27), crushing despair (DC 27), displacement, fear (DC 21), glibness, instant enemy, scrying (DC 21), sending
2nd (8/day)—animus mine (DC 20), anticipate thoughts (DC 20), ashen path, aversion (DC 26), blindness/deafness (DC 20), glitterdust (DC 20), howling agony (DC 20), inflict pain (DC 26), invisibility, mirror image, reckless infatuation (DC 26), unadulterated loathing (DC 26)
1st (13/day)—bane (DC 25), burst of adrenaline, charm person (DC 25), heightened awareness, hermean potential, ill omen, innocence, psychic reading, remove fear (DC 19), sow thought (DC 25)
0 (at will)—dancing lights, detect magic, ghost sound (DC 18), light, mage hand, message, open/close (DC 18), prestidigitation, read magic

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Statistics
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Str 30, Dex 16, Con 18, Int 18, Wis 14, Cha 26
Base Atk +15; CMB +25; CMD 40
Feats: Angel Wings, Angelic Blood, Angelic Flesh, Blinding Stare, Channel Smite, Compounded Pain, Cornugon Smash, Critical Focus, Dazzling Display, Deceitful, Dual Path (mythic, hierophant: inspired spell), Eldritch Heritage (arcane), Eldritch Heritage (mythic), Fiendskin, Greater Spell Focus (enchantment), Greater Spell Penetration, Heighten Spell, Improved Critical, Improved Critical (mythic), Intense Pain, Intimidating Prowess, Maleficium, Manifold Stare (x3), Mask of Virtue, Metallic Wings, Persistent Spell, Power Attack (mythic), Reflexive Trick, Shatter Defenses, Skill Focus (Knowledge [religion]), Soulless Gaze, Spell Focus (enchantment), Spell Focus (mythic), Spell Penetration, Subtle Enchantments, Vile Leadership, Weapon Focus (heavy blades); Elephant in the Room, granted: Weapon Finesse, Power Attack, Deadly Aim, Agile Maneuvers, Combat Expertise; Combat Stamina (free)
Traits: Anatomist (social), Innocent (race), Knowing the Enemy (social), Magical Knack (magic), Planar Savant (faith), Vexing Defender (campaign)
Skills: Acrobatics +10 (+4 to move through enemy’s spaces without provoking; +4 to jump), Appraise +11, Bluff +37 (+5 for believable and unlikely lies), Diplomacy +26 (+2 if mesmerizing tattoo is visible), Disguise +28, Fly +3, Handle Animal +12, Intimidate +40, Knowledge (religion) +28, Knowledge (planes) +20, Knowledge (arcana, dungeoneering, local) +14, Knowledge (history, nobility) +13, Linguistics +19, Perception +20 (+4 while familiar is within arm’s reach), Perform (keyboard) +17, Ride +7, Sense Motive +22 (+4 while familiar is within arm’s reach), Spellcraft +21, Stealth +19, Use Magic Device +26; Racial modifiers Linguistics +2, Sense Motive +2
Languages: Aboleth, Abyssal, Aklo, Aquan, Arboreal/Treant, Auran, Celestial, Common, Draconic, Dwarven, Elven, Giant/Jotun, Gnoll, Gnome, Goblin, Halfling, Ignan, Infernal, Necril, Orc, Read Lips, Sign Language (most common), Sphinx, Sylvan, Terran, Undercommon

SQ: amazing initiative, ambitious bond (outsider servant, summon monster VIII, advanced, SR 26), arcane bond (raven familiar, level 19), aura, bonus feats (cornugon smash, improved critical, shatter defenses, skill focus (knowledge [religion])), code of conduct, champion’s strike (fleet charge), consummate liar (+7), cruelties (cursed, exhausted, fatigued, staggered, stunned), ever ready (+5), favored enemy (outsider (native) +6), fleet warrior, glib lie (DC 30), greeds (blinded, enfeebled, fatigued, injured, restorative), impossible speed, insidious emotions, insidious hatred, invocation (DC 30), knacks, maneuver expert, masterful tricks, mental manipulator (4: aversion, unadulterated loathing, instant enemy, fear, greater forbid action, modify memory, song of discord, confusion), metamagic adept (4/day), new arcana (ashen path, emergency force sphere, monstrous physique iii), occult skill unlocks, precision, plague bringer, recuperation, school power (enchantment), selfish healing (15/day, 7d6), stubborn health, touch of corruption (15/day, 7d6), touch treatment 11/day (break enchantment, major), towering ego, unholy resilience (+8), xenophobe

Gear: Adamantine Scimitar, Bag of Holding (Type III), Belt of Stoneskin, Boots of Speed, Clawhand Shield, Glove of Storing, Hand of Glory, Mask of the Mesmerist, Mesmerizing Tattoo, Mithral Comfort Steelbone Frame Full Plate, Pump Organ, Ring of Mysticism (Type I), Ring of Psychic Mastery, Rings of Summoning Affinity (Asura, Daemon, Div, Kyton, Qlippoth), Robe of Arcane Heritage, Rod of Metamagic (Logical, Lesser), Rod of Metamagic (Quicken, Lesser), Soulsight Goggles, Swarmbane Clasp (stowed), Unfettered Shirt, 727 gp

Favored Class Bonuses Antipaladin: +1 hit point; Mesmerist: +1 spell known (below highest level)

Albus
Raven Sage/Protector, Elemental Companion (Progressing as both a familiar and an animal companion due to campaign rules, at Class Level 19 due to Mythic Eldritch Heritage and the Robe of Arcane Heritage)
N Tiny magical beast (air)
Init +8; Senses low-light vision; Perception +22

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Defense
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AC 41, touch 22, flat-footed 33 (+8 Dex, +14 natural, +2 size, +4 enhancement, +2 deflection, +1 dodge) (+4 dodge vs AoO)
hp 250 (15 hd)
Fort +14, Ref +22, Will +18 (+4 vs enchantment)
Defensive Abilities 20% miss chance against ranged attacks

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Offense
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Speed: 10 ft., fly 40 ft. (good)
Melee: bite +29/24 (1d3+3)
Space 2-1/2 ft., Reach 0 ft.

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Statistics
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Str 8, Dex 26, Con 10, Int 30, Wis 18, Cha 8
Base Atk +15; CMB +25 (+2 deft maneuvers, +4 dirty trick); CMD 33 (+2 vs deft, +4 vs dirty trick)

Feats: Bodyguard, Combat Reflexes, Deft Maneuvers, Dirty Trick Master, Dodge, Ferocious Beast, Greater Dirty Trick, In Harm’s Way, Mobility, Quick Dirty Trick, Spring Attack, Superior Dirty Trick; Elephant in the Room, granted: Weapon Finesse, Power Attack, Deadly Aim, Agile Maneuvers, Combat Expertise; Combat Stamina (free)
Skills: Acrobatics +26, Fly +34, Intimidate +24, Knowledge (all) +37, Linguistics +13, Perception +22, Stealth +34
SQ: able defender, alertness, dazzling intellect, deliver touch spells, devotion, empathic link, greater elemental manifestation, improved evasion, lesser elemental manifestation, link, loyal bodyguard, multiattack, sage’s knowledge, scry on familiar, share spells, shield master, speak with animals of its kind, speak with master, spell resistance
Gear none; light carrying capacity 0/13 lbs.

Master gains a +3 bonus on Appraise checks.

Leadership Score = 23 (15 + Charisma)
Cohort = Level 13 Grimspawn Tiefling Majordomo Investigator
90 level 1 followers
9 level 2 followers
5 level 3 followers
3 level 4 followers
2 level 4 followers
1 level 6 follower

”My Lord Divine - you have two visitors.”

Cedar, the spiritual and de facto leader of the Tromek elves, didn’t respond. Instead, he looked over the shimmering walls of Glymrae for what might be the last time. They were beautiful, especially at night. Said to have been made by the Mother and the Father and left for Eriandal and Andala to find, those who founded the city and built the rest around them. Legends, great heroes and records of great achievements of the Tromek were inscribed upon those.

He could only hope they’d be left intact.

The servant waited, head bowed to the floor, as was his station. Only his personal guards were allowed to stand without his permission.

”Who are they? Speak.” he said, tired. Probably more who petitioned for his guidance, when he had none left to give. Not after the battle of Silver Leaf Forest. The famed aerial cavalry of the Wval had decimated most what was left of their own kin’s forces, and their strange ogre allies with their enslaved casters had done the rest.

Could he, as Divine, request the right to end his life through asenianth? It was admitting ultimate shame, and an ultimate attempt to correct it in the last possible way. But someone had to grant permission, and none was above him on the tight Tromek Hierachy. No Divine before him would have ever considered this.

No Divine before him had been forced to watch what was perhaps the end of his people.

”Wyred.” The servant’s response was quick, concise, and almost free of emotion. Almost. He could see by the minute tightening of the man’s fists what he really thought of such a thing; the classless casters, the lowest of low, daring to request an audience with the Divine. Even now.

So he turned, his long manificent robe of Fayettevan silks brushing the floor. ”Stand.”

The servant did.

”I asked not to be disturbed.”

”Yes, Dewynn.”

Strange. Now back to his Elven title? ”Yet they were led up the steps of the Citadel, right to my quarters. Why?”

He already knew the answer, of course.

”Why? I…” The servant repeated, confused. ”I… Because it seemed the right thing to do…? I can’t remember. Forgive me, Dewynn.”

The guards, consisting only of trusted Rhy and their personal Glaifwyr, each moved their hands slightly closer to their Hirglaifs, though they remained at the walls – for now. So he raise one hand to cut off any premature bloodshed. There were two explanations, after all. Either his trusted servant had willingly refused a direct order from the Divine himself, gaining ultimate anwyred and thereby admittedly a cause for immediate execution, or…

”Magic. You are not dishonored and free of blame. So I decree,” Cedar continued, and he heard the guards nod by the sound of their helmets gliding over their heavy o-yoroi armor.

He closed his eyes. Magic. The craft of the Wyred, whose namesake was shared with the concept of Anwyred – loss of face. Literally taken, they were called ‘non-elves’, but Shamed was perhaps a better name, as use of magic was inherently dishonorable and shameful.

How fitting, for a pair of castless sorcerors to visit him at this exact moment. Perhaps it was punishment from the gods. It probably was, so he would accept. ”Bring them forward.”

The silence that followed as the servant all but fled was deafening.

What returned were an Elder and a boy.

The boy prostrated himself to the floor.

The elder, in turn, merely bowed deeply.

Blades were drawn as his servant openly gasped at the blatant display of disrespect.

”Halt!” He called.

The guards looked unsure, but didn’t advance. To *not* kill at least the old man was a severe breach of protocol. But to not listen to the Divine was *also* a severe breach of protocol. He could imagine some of them panicking, wondering which action would dishonor them less.

”I will deal with them personally,” he clarified, using the full authority of his station, intoning that there would, indeed, be punishment of sorts. ”I hereby command each of the Glaifwyr to report to the Watch at the walls. You have done your duty well. Prepare for the battle tomorrow.”

”And make peace with the Ancestors.”

They nodded, probably relieved, and left. He didn’t miss the sidelong gazes at the castless as they went, however. While the young one was seemingly unarmed, the old man carried a Glyniath of his own. That was, a matching pair of large and small curved swords, the traditional Hirglaif and Byrglaif.

Then, he sighed. It was technically a risk; a sigh could be interpreted as tiredness, but also annoyance; a clear show of emotion to the outside world. Yet in the presence of only his personal guards, he could speak more openly and take slightly more risk. Unfortunately, many had died in this war, and customs dictated that there always had to be ten, even if they weren’t part of his inner circle. Ten guards to the Divine, to match the ten Dominion Lords. So it had always been, even in desperate times.

Until tomorrow, perhaps.

”Stand,” Cedar commanded, pointing at the old man, who did. The boy looked up, and he rounded om him sharply. ”Not you, child.”
The young man, only barely past adulthood, immediately prostrated himself again. Even with careful study, Cedar didn’t detect a hint of emotion or impoliteness. That was good. The boy had discipline and porper decorum.

Better than his Elder, in that regard. ”Vaelyn. Why have you come in this hour?” Cedar asked the greying Wyred neutrally. At the surface, polite. ”And why should I not have you killed for this insult?” was the unspoken question.

”Because, great Dewynn, I have a proposal I hope you will accept. Should you be decree such, of course.”

”Then you have a strange way of currying favor. Whatfor was that necessary? Was I not always a friend to your people and kin? More so than any other of my station in recent history?”

Vaelyn smiled thinly. ”That you were, Dewynn. But as his grace knows, I do little without purpose. It was a necessary test.”

His eyes narrowed the smallest fraction. ”Necessary? For what?”
”To know you are out of options, and cannot afford to lose a single ally regardless of their behavior. You are in the right state of mind.”

Cedar rose from his seat. ”Pick your words very, very carefully. There is a limit to my hospitality. Should I will it, you will not leave this palace despite your magic.”

Yet, he felt compelled to look back. His Rhy were still there ready to fight.

”I might not,” Vaelyn confessed. ”Should the unofficial Wyred among your staff turn against me, yes. Yet, that is not what I wished to discuss.”

”Then what have you come to discuss?”

The elder Wyred pointed to the small green, shining pyramied displayed proudly behind his Seat of power.

”The Sovereign Stone?”

”Yes,” the man stepped forward, without permission, which was technically another breach. He let it go, watching the caster. ”Use it. You must use it. Betrayed by the Shield and joined by her Desert allies, it is the only way to fight back now. Your army is in disarray. All that is left is the town watch, a few groups of peasants and a handful of survivors.”

It took considerable willpower to not get angry. As if he didn’t know that! ”And do what? Create another Rhyadwyr?” He shook his head. ”There is no time. No time to set up the necessary trials. No time to train them properly. And…”

The wizard nodded. ”They have failed us before,” he said, simply, as if the fact that arguably the most powerful warriors in the entire realm could not prevent their culture’s downfall. ”Three are dead, two are Collared by the ogres and now fight against us. I would say charmed, but ‘forced’ is perhaps a better term. Quite interesting devices, these Collars.”

”I would call them horrible.”

”Yes. We would not wish them used on us, indeed.”

”So your plan is to…?”

The old man looked him right in the eye. ”Use it up. All of it.”
Cedar blanched. ”All of it? And risk destroying an artefact given to us by the gods!?” His eyes widened at his own mistake, and he sat down, taking a deep breath. ”What would that do?”

”It is a perhaps vain hope. A last resort. But, I wish to draw all of its power into one person. To not create just a Dominion Lord, but one of old – a True Paladin of the realms. Those who stood against the ancient forces of the Void when the world was young.”

He sighed, disappointed. ”There are those Rhyadwyr who tried to hold onto the stone in their Ascension. Each of them died. Each HAS died since the human fragment went missing. I’ve read the forbidden scrolls. Your forebears believed it was slowly being corrupted by whoever, or whatever, holds the last piece. Why do you think this time will be any different?”

Vaelyn smiled, pleased. ”The Dewynn is wise, to know the details of such matters.”

”As are you.” he nodded back, neutrally. He’d never been exactly sure of the other man’s rank among the Wyred, as they had their own society, their own structure outside of the Tromek caste system. But the man was at least their official ambassador, and perhaps actual leader. He’d asked, but the Wyred valued their secrets highly. And, to be fair, for good reason probably.

The Boy still sat silently.

The elder Wyred folded his arms in his whirl-patterned, frayed robe. ”I have studied the ‘Void’ extensively. They’re creatures from other planes - not native to this one. As such, I will temporarily seal off Outsider interference. And… my fellows and I have made extensive magical preparations on my student’s body.”

Cedar rounded sharply to the bowing figure. ”Him?”

”Yes.”

”Why him? And not someone else?” he demanded. ”A more experienced knight. A Rhy.”

”Simply put, he is the most talented youngling we have. Trained not only in the magical arts but also the way of the Blade. Young and durable – a rarity among us elves. He is suited to wield whichever form the Divine Gift will take.”

”Indeed. And is that true, or is it simply a convenient ruse to make it so I do not have time to put forth someone more beholden to me,” The divine said, unamused.

”Right now, would you prefer to risk losing a more experienced knight to a ritual that will probably kill them, if we had the luxury of time?”

Cedar was silent for a good twenty seconds, considering.

He sighed. ”Stand up, Son.”

The young man obeyed and did a decent job of hiding the pain that came from maintaining such posture for minutes at a time.

”What is your name? Speak.”

”Krynn, Lord Dewynn. Of the Wyred, student of Vaelyn. I mean, not 'sir'. Forgive me, ‘Lord Divine’.” He bowed deeply.

He waved it away. ”You realize what will probably happen.”

”Yes.” No hesitation.

”Then why would you sacrifice yourself so readily? You have your youth. You could hide. See what my former Shield will make of the nation when she shares it with the desertfolk she brought upon our lands. You are no one of importance. No one to be hunted.”

The boy swallowed. ”I have to.”

”Why? What is your reason? Why should I either let you die, or entrust what remains of a divine gift on you?”

There was an exchange in glances between Krynn and his master, who nodded. ”Because my family’s honor demands it,” he continued, neutrally. Calm, even. Focused. ”I was of the Wval-“
”The same House as the Shield? Really?”

He glanced at Vaeyn, who nodded, and he shook his head. He supposed it explained this Wyred’s skill with the blade, at least. ”So you wish to redeem your House in the eyes of the Divine, and atone for Garwina’s sins? Is that your reason?”

Said… ‘woman’ had claimed enough youths. He would deny-

”No.”

The Divine blinked.

”It is for my Family, not my House, Dewynn. My father has been forgotten despite his deeds. Last year, he was forced to commit asenianth. The letter with the order was signed by you. You ordered him executed, because he tried to warn the Elves about her oncoming betrayal. It is hard for me to take, I cannot live with this shame, knowing what she did afterwards!”

In that moment, faced with that unflinching stare, it was hard to breathe. The shame was crushing.

”Mother was then banished from our house, and forced to remarry into the Wyred. No one else would take the honorless.”

He was polite. He spoke neutrally, with little to no emotion, as required. But each word struck his back like a whip. It was a thorough shaming worthy of divine punishment indeed, delivered from the lowest of castes to the highest one. And yet, he hadn’t said one thing that could be considered impolite, or untrue.

In that moment, Cedar revised his opinion. This boy, no, this Man, was skilled and wise beyond his years.

”I won't stand aside and not ask for a chance to right this shame. Not only for me, but all those who died to the invaders taking our lands. They desecrate our forests and spit upon the Ancestors. Please, Dewynn, let me fight!”

”…You realize what will happen, even if this works. You must fight a losing war. You must fight your own kin. You will have to push the invaders back from our lands, and perhaps beyond. You will see many horrors on the way. You will be expected to do what others cannot and inflict many such horrors on others as well.”

The young elf nodded silently.

”Even if we still win, your life won’t be easy. Your service will be eternal, until the day you die. You will serve the lands as a whole, and no longer your former House, or even just the Wyred. The other Dominion Lords might not accept you as one of their own, and may never will. And as a casteless, you might never get much respect for your services. The ranks of Elves might ignore your existence.”

”As is par for the Wyred,” Vaelyn remarked dryly.

”Son -no- Krynn of the Wyred, do you accept these terms?” Cedar pressed, ignoring the elder.

”…I do,” the main said, bowing deeply. Now arguably fitting, as a prospective Dominion Lord.

The guards behind seemed to grasp this, as they made no move to intervene this time.

”In that case… your trial begins now.”

He took the Stone and spoke the words of the Rite of Ascension.
As always, the pyramid began to glow in its divine light.

Just as Krynn began to move, Vaelyn slowly drew his Hirglaif, then handed it to the main. ”A gift, from teacher to student. A samurai should die with blade in hand, or cut his foes down with it.”

As expected, he took the beautiful sword, then reached for the stone just as the other Wyred begain chanting.

Krynn screamed, and kept screaming, as the Stone’s altered his very being forever.