Utopians

Petitioners are the souls of mortals brought to the Outer Planes after death in order to experience their ultimate punishment, reward, or fate. A petitioner retains fragments of its memories from life, and its appearance depends not only upon the shape it held in life but also upon the nature of the Outer Plane to which it has come.

Utopia, a realm of order and logic, is home to The Remade. Their bodies, while reminiscent of their mortal form, are canvases of dense black script over pristine white skin. Each line, each curve, holds riddles and wisdom. Those exceptional souls who decipher their own inscribed enigmas have a unique destiny awaiting them: the chance to be reborn in an axiomite forge as a logical inevitable.

Stealthy, observant, and frequently persuasive, arbiter inevitables are the scouts and diplomats of the inevitable race. Found throughout the multiverse in courts and on battlefields, arbiters keep a close eye on the forces of chaos and do their best to keep the lawful from straying, while simultaneously winning over the hearts and minds of those who might yet be saved. Though their assorted abilities make them extremely useful, arbiters see themselves less as servants than as advisers and counselors, preferring to ride around on their summoners’ shoulders and help guide their “partners” on the path of law. They detest being summoned by chaotic individuals, and when teamed with such a creature, they aren’t above using Diplomacy to try to influence the summoner’s friends or refusing to undertake actions that seem contrary to their programming. An arbiter who comes across evidence of a significant insurgence of chaos upon a given plane does everything in its power to rally its allies against the dangerous instability, and in situations that are clearly beyond its ability to handle, it may refuse to continue onward until the group agrees to help it reach the nearest greater inevitable and make a full report, or else may travel to Utopia itself and present its urgent information in person. Arbiters typically bear the shapes of tiny clockwork spheres with shiny metal wings. Generally peaceful unless combating true creatures of chaos, arbiters prefer to cast protection from chaos on their allies and use command to make opponents drop their weapons and run. Their most powerful weapon, the ability to release their internal energy as a deadly burst, is reserved for dire need and battles of the utmost service to law, as the resulting period of darkness while they’re powered down is the only thing that seems to truly scare the tiny automatons. An arbiter inevitable can serve a spellcaster as a familiar. Such a spellcaster must be lawful neutral, must be at least caster level 7th, and must have the Improved Familiar feat. Arbiter inevitables measure 1 foot in diameter but are surprisingly heavy, weighing 60 pounds. Their ability to fly on metal wings is as much a supernatural ability as a physical one.

Stewards of ancient, colossal cities on lawful planes, axiomites represent the fundamental search for order. According to their own history, the first axiomites sprang from the raw mathematical underpinnings of the cosmos long before the first gods began to stir—they are personifications of a primordial reality made flesh in an attempt to understand itself. New axiomites are formed from souls much like celestials or fiends, with spirits drawn across the planes to one of the axiomites’ humming crystal monoliths, emerging later as purified creatures of law and theory. A particular axiomite may look like any humanoid-shaped creature, though the particular form does not affect its abilities in any way. Beneath this form, all axiomites are the same—clouds of glowing, crystalline dust that constantly swirl and congeal into complex tangles of symbols and equations, making them literally creatures of pure mathematical law. Axiomite society is broken into three divisions, each with its own duty and purpose. One devotes itself to the construction and maintenance of inevitables, another to the expansion and construction of their capital city, and the third to continuing the exploration and calculation of the laws and constants that underlie all of reality. Their leader is a gestalt mind formed by the greatest individuals of their race, forming when needed and then dispersing into its component axiomites to put the god-mind’s plans into action.

Zelekhuts are bounty hunters and executioners all rolled into one. They seek out those beings who continually evade justice—either through active flight, or through power and station—and bring law and justice to the multiverse’s most notorious fugitives and criminals. Ironically, while zelekhuts are implacable and unrelenting in their duty, they have little interest in passing judgment of their own, a fact that often confuses other races. Rather, a zelekhut is content to enforce the laws of any given society, and while it might hunt a condemned serial killer or notorious thief across half a dozen planes, it will not shift a single hoof to capture a corrupt ruler whose offenses are 10 times worse, so long as the atrocities are within her technical rights as ruler. All zelekhuts understand that laws can and must differ from place to place, and it is not the zelekhut’s job to moralize, merely to track down those who seek to flee their punishment.

Kolyaruts are enforcers of bargains, traveling to the very edges of the planes in order to punish oath-breakers and see that contracts are kept. They care little for the terms of the agreements in question, only that promises are fulfilled, debts are paid, and balance is maintained. Least conspicuous of the inevitables, even in their natural form, kolyaruts are the size of tall humans, though they weigh far more because of their composition. Capable of using both invisibility and disguise self to pass completely unnoticed through humanoid lands, kolyaruts most frequently appear as cloaked warriors bearing finely crafted bastard swords, allowing others to chalk up any metallic noises to the clanking of hidden armor until the moment when they pull back their hoods and let their quarries look upon their mechanical faces, understanding only too late the nature of the mysterious strangers. Perhaps because their missions can be the murkiest and most open to interpretation, kolyaruts are by far the most talkative of the inevitables, naturally possessing a courtly grace and an encyclopedic knowledge of social customs, which they use both to assist them in gathering information on their targets and in issuing challenges (or executing dignified sentences) on the battlefield. Though naturally as solitary as their kindred, kolyaruts are occasionally content to let members of other races tag along and assist them in achieving shared goals, though they have little problem abandoning or even exploiting these “comrades” if it brings them closer to fulfilling their mission.

Behemoths of onyx and golden armor, maruts shake the ground when they walk, each thunderous step ringing a death knell for those they’ve come to take. Rarely seeming to hurry, a marut’s onslaught is deliberate, purposeful, and relentless. Its quarry may impede it or flee, running for decades or centuries, but from the initial meeting onward, the target must always look over its shoulder with the knowledge that, like death itself, the marut is ever at its heels, slowly but surely approaching, bringing balance through inevitable oblivion. Maruts primarily target those mortal souls who have artificially extended their lifespans beyond what is feasible for their race, such as liches and other powerful magic users. Extraordinary but natural means of cheating death are sometimes also punished, such as the magistrate who murders an entire starving town to save himself, or those who foresee their own deaths via divination magic and are therefore able to avoid them. Although they are capable of speaking eloquently in any language, and frequently gather vast amounts of information from those who are intimidated by their mere presence, maruts rarely engage in conversation or strategic alliances with mortals. Even on the battlefield, the juggernauts prefer to remain silent, knowing that their targets are already aware of their own transgressions and that all mortals secretly harbor dreams of immortality.

A typical lhaksharut is a six-armed construct that appears to be made of a mix of metals and stone. Where a human would have legs, it instead possesses a complex orb of spinning rings similar in shape to an orrery—it is this whirling machine that grants the lhaksharut the ability to fly. Though a lhaksharut has huge, metal wings, they serve as little more than stabilizers when it’s in flight. Four of the construct’s arms end in functional hands that it normally uses to carry a mix of weapons. The lhaksharut’s lower two arms hold large, flaming metal spheres in their hands—it uses these spheres to generate elemental bolts of energy that it can hurl great distances to damage foes. Lhaksharuts are tasked with maintaining the separation between different planes of reality, especially the elemental planes. They do not concern themselves with petty trespasses by visitors from one plane to another, nor even the occasional creation of a pocket plane or hijacking of a chunk of one reality to serve as a base within another. What does trouble a lhaksharut is anything that represents a permanent link between planes, or an effort by the denizens of one plane to invade and conquer another. They often find themselves in conflict with the machinations of powerful outsiders who seek to create beachheads on other planes to serve as launching pads for massive incursions. When possible, a lhaksharut enforces the separation of planes through the simple expedient of smashing any device that creates a dangerous breach, or killing any creature that seems determined to mix or blend realities. The inevitable does not care why such infractions occur, and is often deaf to any excuse suggesting even a temporary linking of planes is a good idea. However, while singled-mined, a lhaksharut is not mindless or incapable of reason. They are emotionless, but can be negotiated with if a problem cannot be solved by smashing and killing violators. Rarely, a lhaksharut can even be convinced that maintaining a planar link is important enough to let the gate stand, if only temporarily. In such cases, the lhaksharut always volunteers to guard the portal until the time comes to shut it down. These arrangements must include a detailed explanation on how a desired course of action will directly lead to meeting the lhaksharut’s goal. Only when facing the most overwhelmingly powerful foe does a lhaksharut agree to assist in a task not related to its primary function, and then only to win allies to help it achieve success in an area where the lhaksharut has already met with failure. Even if convinced to undertake such an alliance, a lhaksharut is likely to insist its mission be accomplished first. A creature of pure order, a lhaksharut is incapable of defaulting on a promise made in good faith, but it is aware that not all creatures are so bound. If for some reason the needs of its allies must be put first, a lhaksharut insists on guarantees that its allies will meet their commitments to it once they have what they want. In combat, a lhaksharut uses its speed and mobility to get close to targets. A lhaksharut sees groups as imperfect machines, and knows that the best way to overcome them is to disrupt their smooth functioning. While creatures able to directly harm the inevitable are dealt with if necessary, it much prefers to first eliminate healers, scouts, and shield-bearers before tackling powerful fighters or spellcasters. A lhaksharut cannot be taunted or baited into changing its course of action—it is completely emotionless and only cares about the efficiency of its battle plan. It also fights without care for its own survival, trusting that either its regeneration will restore it to life, or a new inevitable will be created to replace it. When unaware of a threat to the sanctity of the division of the planes, and not threatened, a lhaksharut can be a surprisingly good conversationalist. They are as likely to be found floating through a void as maintaining any kind of stronghold. Lhaksharuts are aware that the domains they wish to patrol are too vast to be directly viewed with any efficiency. Some lhaksharuts thus forge networks of informants who can patrol the many planes, and send word to the inevitable to alert it of any apparent breaches. The constructs have no other need for the treasure that they gather from transgressors, and sometimes even pay for tips that might lead to a planar infraction. Anyone who might prove to be a valuable informant is treated with respect, and may even be able to gain insights into the planes from the lhaksharut’s vast knowledge on the subject, as long as questions never wander into the dangerous territory of combining two planes.

Apkallus are a race of psychic, oracular outsiders from Utopia, creatures of fundamental law tasked by their divine creators with the protection and guidance of lawful mortal civilizations. They are enemies of the chaotic, of those who oppose just rulership and the development of culture, laws, lore, or technology, and of those who otherwise seek to tear down the progress of mortal communities. To this end, apkallus often travel to different worlds throughout the Material Plane, guiding the rulers toward lawful religions, promoting the value of crafts and the arts, and aiding in the development of fundamental discoveries such as writing, architecture, and agriculture.  Rather than simply teaching mortals such knowledge, apkallus prefer to act as advisors, nudging those who would develop key techniques toward important discoveries, ensuring that the civilizations within their care don’t come to rely on their instruction. Apkallus can communicate with any intelligent creature by using telepathy or mindlink. They are particularly fond of using shared mindscapes to grant inspiring visions of possible futures to their charges, modeling an array of potential developments in an immersive medium that transcends dry theory and exposition.  Apkallus are also archivists and preservationists, carefully recording the key historical documents that describe the progress of mortal societies so that knowledge and progress can be restored following natural disasters or periods of war or barbarism. They take great care to ensure that their extradimensional archives remain well-protected, understanding that certain information, or even knowledge of the existence of that information, can undermine a civilization’s progress and self-reliance. Whenever possible, apkallus ensure that the material collected in their personal archives is transferred to the grand library vaults within Utopia. Here, they and their allies can analyze the information collected across myriad cultures and devise strategies for advancing the cause of law and order throughout the Material Plane.  Apkallus appear as large, muscular humanoids with the feathered heads of raptors, and with powerful, hawk-like wings. They dress in surplices of fish scales, which glitter with a milky iridescence that casts shimmering rainbows across their forms, and they typically carry magical bronze spears. They can also adopt two alternate forms—one human, and one merfolk—in which they move through terrestrial and aquatic settlements and cities, respectively.  While apkallus are peaceful by nature, they are nevertheless capable of defending themselves and others with powerful magic, especially in defense of Utopia or mortal cities under their protection.   

Chained for eons beneath the deepest waves of the endless seas, danavas are the eldest and first of the great outsiders collectively known as titans. Conceived originally at the foundation of reality to govern and regulate the mercurial forces that shaped the cosmos, danavas ultimately proved too harsh, too rigid, and too unf linching for their mission. Finally, when the danavas went to war with their chaotic and less powerful brethren, the gods interceded before creation was rent asunder, placing their elder children in stasis beneath the waves, buried at the cruxes of many worlds.  Danavas resemble thick—even rotund—but extremely muscular humans of incredible size. Reaching heights of 75 to 100 feet, danavas can weigh up to 200 tons. Their ancient ornamentations cover most of their red-brown skin, and their helmets always reveal their wagon-wheel-sized, pupilless eyes.  Since the time of their imprisonment, the danavas have seldom emerged from beneath the waves. When freed from its sequestration, a danava surfaces in an attempt to restore balance to the world, whether through the raising of an elder god, perhaps devastating a race of humanoids on the brink of a destructive discovery or crushing the unchecked hubris of their own lesser kin. And although danavas focus singularly on their targets, they coldly and ruthlessly dispatch enemies attempting to thwart that goal, raining down lightning and laying waste to entire   cities, wreaking fearsome havoc that becomes the stuff of legends. In combat, the titans typically use their massive brawn in conjunction with its mythic resilience to outlast enemies, saving their spell-like abilities for specific targets that pose a greater danger.  While the forces that release danavas into the world are mysterious, the great outsiders function with autonomy. If a danava’s fury is successfully checked or resisted, the creature can be reasoned with. Typically, the titan divulges its charge and purpose, and explains the need for its actions, but without looking for pardon or expressing remorse. Danavas see the absolutes of the universe and rarely appreciate complexity or nuance. While danavas are usually lawful neutral, some lawful good and lawful evil danavas do exist. Lawful good danavas endeavor to cause the minimum necessary destruction to achieve their goals. Once they have righted whatever imbalance they were released to fix, danavas return to the fathomless depths until again no living memory of them remains.

DANAVA PILLAR
Certain danavas have, over the eons, merged with the cruxes of the universe they oversee. These danava pillars are more powerful than normal, and destroying one would be a step toward unraveling reality itself, so they are targets for creatures like the hundun, who wish to destroy entire dimensions. Danava pillars are always 10th mythic rank, and they vary from CR 25 to 30. This increase comes from templates like the advanced simple template, class levels, or both. Each danava pillar gains a unique ability from its connection to the fundamental linchpins of the universe, including (but not limited to) the following.  
Akashic Guru (Ex): The danava pillar is connected to the Akashic Record. It gains a +20 racial bonus on all Knowledge checks, and it can expend 1 point of mythic power to recall its previous self from the Akashic Record without spending an action. If it does so, it is restored to full hit points, regains all uses of its spell-like abilities, and loses all conditions and spells currently affecting it (beneficial or detrimental); it does not regain any uses of mythic power. Since the ability does not require an action, the danava pillar can use this ability even when it can’t take actions, as the universe itself attempts to prevent the threatened destruction of the pillar.  
Temporal Lord (Ex): The danava pillar is connected to the Dimension of Time, and its multidimensional existence doesn’t connect or relate to time in the same way as a typical creature’s. Each round, just before its normal actions, the danava pillar benefits from effects identical to those of the spell time stop (though this isn’t a spell effect). It doesn’t spend an action to do so—this is simply a natural consequence of its nonlinear experience of time.  
Yin and Yang (Ex): The danava pillar is connected to the Positive and Negative Energy Planes and the transmigration of souls. Both positive and negative energy heal the pillar (whether channeled to heal or to harm), and it can channel positive and negative energy at will once per round each as a free action. The channeled energy’s effect is as a 20th-level cleric’s. The danava pillar gains Selective Channeling as a bonus feat. Finally, a creature reduced to 0 hit points or below by any of the danava pillar’s attacks is instantly reincarnated into its next life. Unlike the spell reincarnate, this transforms the creature into an infant with no class levels and little or no memory of its former life. Restoring the original creature from its new incarnation requires a miracle, a wish, or similar magic, and as doing so simultaneously eliminates the new incarnation, it could have profound moral or ethical implications for the restorer.