Cindarion - The Solar
He descended not on wings, but on certainty. His voice stilled storms. His sword made no sound as it moved. And when he spoke your name, you were already judged.
Role in Its Society:
Solars are the greatest of the celestials — divine generals, emissaries of creation, and avatars of the final will of the gods. Cindarion is one such being — not a protector, not a herald, but a sentence in flesh.
Known as The Lex Ultima (“The Last Law”), Cindarion is dispatched when the gods no longer wish to warn, to guide, or to redeem. His arrival ends negotiations. He is not justice — he is closure. Nations fall at his word, archfiends retreat in his shadow, and once his blade is drawn, only divine intervention can still his hand.
Among celestials, Cindarion is both feared and revered. He does not question commands — he is the command.
Appearance Description:
Clad in ornately inscribed golden armor etched with endless celestial scripture, Cindarion’s form is both beautiful and terrifying. Every inch of his presence radiates unwavering judgment. His wings are vast and luminous, stretching wide enough to eclipse the sun when fully unfurled.
His face is sculpted with divine symmetry, emotionless save for the burning golden eyes that pierce through lies and sin alike. Behind him floats a glyph-ring halo, ever-turning and glowing with runes of ancient law. His sword — Veritas — is a radiant executioner’s blade, impossibly sharp, inscribed with the oaths of a thousand shattered pacts.
Backstory:
Cindarion was created not by one god, but by divine consensus of the pantheon of Gaiathrae — a rare collaboration at the dawn of the Age of Mortals, when empires threatened to overstep the divine boundary. His purpose: to act as a final arbiter, unchained by mercy or subjectivity, when mortal will begins to unmake the world.
His most notable action was the Silent Sundering during the Fall of the First Ones — a kingdom that attempted to erase the divine from its texts, its temples, and finally, its laws. Cindarion appeared at twilight. By dawn, only ruins remained.
Now, whispers among the faithful suggest he has stirred again — and that the gods are no longer waiting for mortals to fix what they’ve broken.
