Rakjat the Exile - Entry 1

Rakjat stood in the center of the "tribunal," the gang of semi-elders who had cornered him in the godforge. They stood around him, backing him up against a brasier, filled with coals and blades.

"A trial?" he said. "As if we believed in such things?"

"She wanted this to be 'official,'" said the eldest of them, a grizzled old gish named Senkajar. "After all, we wouldn't want you waltzing back in claiming that none of this ever happened."

Another of them spoke. "Rakjat, you stand accused of speaking against the beliefs and ideals we hold sacred, as well as not paying proper respect to the Lich Queen."

Rakjat snorted. "The Lich Queen can cunniling herself, for all I care, and I've never said anything that wasn't true."

Senkajar raised his eyebrows. "So, you deny that you stated that we should avoid punishing the slaves?"

Rakjat laughed. "I did say that slaves work better if they're not unconcious. I also said that they learn to obey better of you only beat them when they're doing something wrong, rather than all the time." He looked from face to face. "And yes, I did say that the best slaves are the ones you never beat at all, the ones who believe that they're doing what they want instead of what you want, the slaves who think they're not slaves. The ones like all of you."

All of the assembled githyanki gasped, and then Senkajar raised his hand into the air. "The accused has been found guilty." His hand lowered, and he stared at Rakjat, malice in his eyes. "From this day forward, you shall be known as Rakjat the Exile. You are hereby banished to the material plane, and if you ever return to the Astral, you will be subject to immediate execution." Senkajar waved his hand, and a portal opened behind Rakjat.

Several of the members of the tribunal stepped forward, raising their hands as if to push him back, but Rakjat swept his hand across them. It was a gesture, nothing more, but they stopped for a moment. Rakjat sneered. "The Exile? Fine. I'll relish the name." He reached out to his side and grasped the handle of one of the silver swords lying in the brazier. It was unfinished, he could tell, not yet full of the power their full swords possessed, but the blade still glowed white-hot from the heat of the coals and the magic of the enchantment.

He held the sword out before him. "And when I return to the Astral Plane," he said, stepping back, "that isn't a choice you're going to be able to make." Rakjat turned, and stepped forward through the portal.