Tal 39-dorei Campaign Setting Reborn Site

Lirien smiled. It was not a nice smile. "I'm not taking it off. I'm giving it back."

And the Dorei—forty-seven freed, confused, terrified—did something the Guild had never accounted for. They didn't run. They picked up the fallen chains. They picked up rocks. The girl picked up a shard of her own shattered collar and held it like a dagger. tal 39-dorei campaign setting reborn

He drew his blade. Not the Guild's standard-issue straight sword, but the curved, single-edged Kael he'd hidden in his false leg. Old Dorei steel, folded a thousand times, its edge singing with pre-war magic. Lirien smiled

Kaelen nodded. He’d been Tal 39 for three years now. The number was a brand over his heart, magic-etched so deep it pulsed when the Guild whispered his name. He was a weapon. A reborn —one of the broken things reforged in the Black Forges beneath the Spire. Once, he’d been a Dorei slave himself. Now, he wore the collar by choice, because the Guild’s leash was the only thing keeping the poison in his blood from dissolving him from the inside. I'm giving it back

Lirien turned to face the onrushing guards. His body was failing—the poison, the released pain, the years of debt finally coming due. But he had enough for one last transfer.