Archon

When a lawful good mortal dies, its spirit may travel to the seven-layered heavenly mountain often called the Seven Heavens, where it becomes a lantern archon, the lowest rung of a celestial hierarchy. Not every such soul becomes an archon; some, like dwarves and halflings, go unchanged to their own gods' realms. Seven kinds of archon inhabit the mountain's seven layers, each with a very different look, but all radiate calm goodness and order except when threatened or fighting.

As both residents and guardians, archons defend the mountain from the plane of perfect order and from the hells, both of which covet it. They hate combat but fight ferociously once committed, and can project an aura of menace: those affected save vs. spell (lantern +1, hound 0, warden -1, sword -2, trumpet -3, throne -4, tome -5) or take -2 to attack rolls until they land a hit on the archon, which breaks the effect. Each also has innate powers usable at will, once per round.

Metal fittings fused to the body (collar, bracers or greaves, breastplate, helmet, depending on station) reveal both an archon's station and its virtue within it, rising from lead through tin, brass, bronze, silver and gold to platinum. A warden in platinum is more devoted than one in brass; when it advances it becomes a sword archon in lead and climbs again. The metal transmutes on its own, cannot be removed and ignores metal-altering magic. It exists to remind the archon to strive, not to bind or armor it. Archons of the same station are equal whatever their metal, and jealousy is almost unknown. Only one archon is known to have betrayed his kind for advancement; he fled to the hells, and rumor says he is now a gelugon. Archons care nothing for money or magic items, seeking only wisdom and compassion.

Floating balls of light, lanterns are fresh arrivals and the foot soldiers of the host, wearing no metal. They fire two rays of light per round to 30 feet for 1d6 each, harmless to the pure of heart who mean the archon no harm. Being incorporeal, they ignore nonmagical weapons and take half damage from magical ones. Spells affect them, except paralyzation, charm and those that need a physical body. Friendly and helpful, they guide newcomers and offer advice through parables, though they can do little physically. They live on the first layer, feeding on the plane's light, sometimes carry messages upward, and teleport anywhere when a hound summons them. Each longs to become a hound.

Hounds are muscular humans with dog heads and simple collars, guarding the first two layers and commanding lanterns. They fight to defend the mountain, themselves, or innocents facing a stronger foe. They can use weapons but prefer fists (1d4 each) and bite (1d8). They can become any dog or wolf, though never a lycanthrope, keeping all their own powers plus the animal's; nonmagical weapons cannot hurt them in either form. Each is telepathically linked to 100 lanterns, and in a fight 1d10 lanterns arrive per round until all 100 are present. Hounds greet and direct travelers, with a watchful eye. They eat any organic food but never hunt or farm, living on visitors' gifts and, between offerings, on lingering planar essence, a gift lost when they become wardens.

Wardens are huge humans with grizzly heads, clawed hands and tiny bright eyes full of intelligence, wearing collars and bracers. They have a bear's strength and senses without its temper, speak by telepathy, and talk aloud with bears. On the mountain they are never surprised; no one knows about elsewhere, since they never leave. They often feign stupidity to lure foes close, then attack like a bear: claws 1d8 each, bite 2d6. Two claw hits in a round mean a hug for an extra 1d10 and +4 on the bite; escaping needs a bend bars/lift gates roll, and until then the victim cannot fight with arms or cast spells.

Wardens cast lesser/greater divination wizard spells and priest divination sphere spells of 4th level or lower as 8th-level priests, any of them at will but each only once per day. They guard the portals between layers, barring the unworthy and keeping lanterns from rising unless carrying messages. Herbivores, they eat enormous quantities of roots, plants and even trees, but only for an hour at dawn, and will skip it if needed.

Swords resemble ordinary humans with wings in place of arms, silver hair and glowing eyes, wearing collars, greaves and breastplates. They bite four times a round for 2d4 each, and with 100 feet to dive they strike for 2d10 at AC -8 during the dive. At will they cast priest spells of any sphere at 15th level. They carry the words of tomes, and sometimes the gods, to every layer, so their arrival is always eagerly awaited, even when the news is war. They eat nothing.

Trumpets look like winged elves but fairer still, with collars and breastplates and a silver trumpet they sound on arriving anywhere and on returning home. Nonarchons hearing it save vs. spell or are paralyzed for 1d4 rounds. The trumpet turns into a silver sword +3 for two attacks per round at 1d10; stolen, it becomes useless lead, and the thief had best hope its owner never finds him. They cast from all priest spheres as 17th-level priests.

Messengers of higher archons and the gods, they alone may leave the mountain, escorting spirits of the newly dead back to bodies being raised or resurrected, which earns them awe. They are also the only station with a ruler of its own kind, a lord of heralds who assigns their duties. They drink only a potent mead brewed from the mountain's flowers, rumored to prolong life.

Thrones are golden-skinned, fair-haired humans clad in metal, with helmets, swords and glowing breastplates. They send minions to fight but cast all wizard schools and priest spheres at 18th level and strike twice a round with vorpal swords +5 for 1d12. They govern the mountain's cities and realms, settling disputes and modeling goodness, and are said to hold the real power among archons, though tomes oversee more territory. They never squabble, negotiating differences peacefully, and can command any archon under their authority. They live only on nectar made from the praise of lower archons mixed with fruit of the Seventh Heaven.

Tomes are armored, winged humans with hawk heads, one for each layer, ranking just above thrones. Their duty is defense, though they will strike first to prevent wider war. With only seven of them, their loss would cripple the hierarchy, so a tome avoids personal combat and can call to its side 125 swords, 250 wardens, 500 hounds or 1,000 lanterns. If it must, it fires two rays of light per round from its hands for 1d10 each, and it casts any priest sphere spell as a 20th-level priest. Each watches its layer with near-omniscience, though the gods' realms are hidden from it. They supposedly meet in council, but no lesser being has seen it. They feed on ambrosia, the distilled joy of the mountain's petitioners.

Archons are forgiving, so falling entirely takes great folly, though it happens even at high ranks. A fallen archon keeps its form and abilities but loses the powers the plane grants: a fallen hound keeps its fists and looks but can no longer call lanterns and is stuck in humanoid form. Those clinging to chaos are surrendered to chaotic powers and made into asuras, while those tainted by evil are exiled to the Prime, the great planar city or elsewhere.