Merodi

When the magical rocks above the dark fortress reverse their spin, most wizards in The Crystal Highlands of Armaria rush to their scrying pools. Merodi, however, simply tightens their grip on their combat pole. They don't seek futures in the shimmering monoliths. Instead, they trace patterns in the crystalline dust with the pole's end—forms that value balance over brute force, a code of honor learned through a lifetime of lonely practice. The hum of the spinning stones is just a rhythm, a metronome for the quiet discipline of a warrior who found their truth not in magic, but in the perfect stillness between one strike and the next. A younger mage once asked what they were defending. Merodi just pointed the pole's tip at their own reflection in a nearby crystal.