A 13th level paladin of the sacred oath of redemption, is lost on a strange world with only a few cryptic, though divinely delivered words to lead the way.
After a frightening display of power that both saved your nation but decimated the remainder of your army, Matthias was banished to the uninhabited, unforgiving desert of Nokros, where you wandered for days, waiting to die. But death was elusive. Instead, a voice–the same voice that nagged at you most of your life, telling you of a better way than the harsh, militaristic, stoic society in which you were raised–whispered to you, urged you to continue on, even past mortal capacity to survive without water and food. Finally, on a clear dry night, you collapse, and count the constellations of the heroes that had gone before, waiting for your last breath to expel.
The night blurs, not in shadow, but in light, bright and blue, and in the middle of it all a woman, beautiful and soft, caressing your cheek. She says her name is Liliandial, the Eastern Star, and declares you the champion of The Great Lion. With a second chance at a better life, you accept the oath to serve the mysterious deity. In return you are promised gifts and tools that will help aid you in your assignment. And when all is accomplished, Matthias will be redeemed and his path to the Elysium fields will be assured.
She leads you to a pool of starry moonlight resting between the dunes and holds her arm aloft, bidding you enter. “You must learn the true name of the Great Lion,” she says. “Seek those who sailed over the sea, in and out of weeks and over a year and another and twice. Who quelled the darkening tide and felled the rising Storm…”
More she said, but the memory twists and blackens after falling through liquid, then rising again, pulled and pushed by a wild surf until you find yourself face down in soft, warm, wet sand on an unfamiliar beach in an unfamiliar land.
The smell of the trees, the taste of the sea and blue of the sky are all foreign to you.
This isn’t my home, you think. My home…where is home?
But before you can answer yourself, you realize what you’re holding in your hand: a spear, familiar and strange, golden shaft and a flat, sharp head that flares to a barb. You focus on it, feeling a connection, like a string–no, a serpent–slithering its way from your hand to your heart to your head.
“Absolution,” you say out loud. The spear subtly vibrates in response, answering to its name. The first gift promised…
