Lost Order of Chad

By Pinky

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Order of Brilliance Archives

The Compendium Of Chad

Volume 1, Page 3:

"As we look at the etymology of our language, we can pursue the past of one of our patron saints, Chad, a noble Genesis Adventurer who, as of this scholar’s knowledge, was a Lord in all but name.

The Divine Empire and its systems are near incomprehensible to even our most brilliant scholars today. But Brilliance is never something to be rushed. In this exercise, the scholars have dedicated their lives to mysteries that may tear a lesser man’s mind apart from just overhearing the conversation.

Memoirs of Chad’s adventures and those of his disciples, whose heroic deeds are sung in taverns to this day, exist across the Realms.

They say that his Loot bag remains undiscovered and that within it is one of the Sacred Keys that can control the Divine City shields without taxing our mages.

Rumors also abound that this is just Dark Mages seeking to waste Noble Divine Citizens of Loot’s time.

The mixed art and writing of all Realms with Chad in their name, or Cities named Chad, have adherents to the lost Order of Chad, without fail.

As an ancient order, predating the great cataclysm that separated society, The Order of The Chad was one of extreme virtue. Still, with limited tolerance for lazy or ignoble souls, their aspiring Disciples were swiftly whittled down over months of arduous mental and physical testing. For those lucky few that remained, years of intense training would begin, to toughen the mind, body, and soul.

Most would see the example of physical displayed naturally by existing sect members, and be focusing their studies solely on martial arts and endurance, only to be brutally eviscerated in rhetoric and discussion. The Amphora for Chads was a place where all stood on the merit of their Logic.

The remaining Disciples were inducted into the Brotherhood of Chads through Sacred Divine Initiation. Their power and influence grew over the years, then decades, into a fully-fledged powerhouse of an organization.

Eventually, it was said that a globe-spanning fraternity existed, with their companion order, the Sisterhood of Stacy, steadily by their side or riding into battle alongside them. Their Sect Robes were well known enough for even the most vagrant of travelers and rural folk to recognize their regal presence.

In the great cataclysm, it is known that the Elders of the Sect laid down their lives performing an ancient ritual of sacrifice to power a portal to a new Realm, so that the Junior Disciples could pass through and live on. The Way of The Chad demands self-sacrifice, and what greater sacrifice could the old give to the young?

All 16 Orders today are known to have ancient Chad writings in their scripture, such as the well-known “no pain, no gains” rule or esoteric deeper social models such as the controversial dark arts of "memes."Many of these values are still adhered to by some Adventurers of Brilliance in travels across the Realms.

Many a Lord seeks out OG stamped books, written by these Genesis Adventurers, as the knowledge inside could provide a way to the former greatness that the land once knew.

Weapons of mass destruction were detailed in such books, but not the materials or manufacturing methods.

The Order of Chad is long dead, its mysteries and great works scattered by the sands of time; still, wherever his name is present, so too is the blood of his descendants.

A fraction of that glory still exists, burnished bronze by time but still as unbreakable as ever.

Accepting that their Order was lost to the cataclysm, the Brotherhood of Chad accepts all with Chad’s blood into their fold, or, after a thorough soul examination, a shard is found of Chad’s Virtue in their soul.

Every day that society works together to piece together the remnants of the cataclysm, with Chad’s story being only one of the thousands to decipher, is a day that edges the Lootverse closer to the Greatness of old.

Every new artifact found, or breakthrough made is another day closer to a return of the Golden age of the Divine Empire.

Long may the Order of Brilliance teach the lost scriptures, for in these teachings and discussions, Order will be born and the Virtue of Brilliance, in all its majesty and glory, will be returned to Realms across the globe.

‘No Pain, No Gain’ - Chad The First"

Some Chads of History are being worked on by Pinky’s Lab, about 80% done but got into Midjourney beta thanks to a very kind Lord of Bread:

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Encyclopedia, Entry Two

The Banner of the Ancient Order of Chad

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Order of Brilliance Archives

Compendium Of Chad

Volume One, Page Three:

The 17-Truths

One: There is an equal exact magnitude of Power, but a polar purpose in everything. Treat others like you, in turn, would wish for your loved ones to be treated, or risk your treatment of others to be an exercise of no gains.

Two: There is evil in all good; suitable lessons can be found in all evil. The magnitude and impact on those of lower Greatness define the net value of a Chad’s action. A Chad may have Gains only if the net worth is positive. The larger the gains, the more pain one must expect. A Giant of might must, in turn, be a Titan of rhetoric.

Three: The choices you make are what define you and your legacy. The sins of the past must, in turn, be atoned by labors of the future. No existence may wield evil to achieve good without penalty. An effort of Titans or token gesture, whatever it takes to satisfy the wronged party, is the path of Chad. A wronged Karen is a formidable foe but powerless in the face of a Master of the Dao of Chad.

Four: One must forge their path to the Heavens, but they need not do it alone, no matter what may be said by those of other paths or Orders. The Dao of Chad is to uplift those to the standard you set and learn all that one can from those of learned background in wisdom or battle. A Skill mastered is more than just single learning.

Five: For all that you take in life, you must, in turn, give back with gratitude and tribute, be it to the Earth, a Noble, or a Divine. Perfection lies in the eye of the beholder, and your honor to those of standing should reflect this.

Six: The Law of Xenia demands hospitality to all; turn your back on those in need to stray from the Dao of Chad, the Dao of Dickhead, and invite Divine tribulation. To burn brightly is to burn with Brilliance, as a soul’s wick can be cut short by a God’s thought.

Seven: A contract sworn on the Furies is to be given the utmost respect, for tribulation awaits a word broken or promise unkept. The Enlightened path of Chad requires a commitment of the soul to their word.

Eight: Do not judge by appearance, for the world is full of wonderous and monstrous creatures. Those of great beauty may be of wicked heart, and vice versa. Protect the weak from the injustices of others, for they may not have the Strength themselves.

Nine: Do not be foul in the temperament of your Disciples learning, for all were once beginners, and Anger makes for a poor teacher. No soul can fully return from the depths of Tartarus, nor would any desire to from the Divine Heavens.

Ten: The remains of these souls are echoes of the time they walked the Realms. Their experiences and Bags of holding are discoverable, if in part only. Rage at the heavens at your peril, for they care not at the passing of your life.

Eleven: There is no more excellent value than the protection of the future, be it the land, the young, or a pregnant Lady. The echoes of powerful souls can be heard by the unborn, and the Fury of a wronged soul can manifest into a soul of Greatness.

Twelve: Make no enemy of the Divine, for eternity is their suffering as death is ours. The schemes of Divine entities are as unknowable as they are unfathomably dangerous. The Vitriol they hold for mere mortals is eternities deep, and their blessings can be as awful as their curses.

Thirteen: Do not judge followers of other Orders, for their choice is their own; as you have freedom, so too shall you entrust it to your fellows. A Fox may no more be a Lion than a Dove is to a Swan.

Fourteen: If violence in interactions of poor discourse is required, do not hesitate in its execution. From Wand to Warhammer and Cannon and Catapult, the burden of your foe’s deaths lays at your feet. Reflect on your choices, as to ignore them is to risk Asshole Chadness energies pooling in your denied past.

Fifteen: When violence is enacted, your first responsibility lies to those of no relation to the cause, for a blow dealt without reason is of great shame. Those that pledge sword to yours are your second responsibility. A fault of theirs lies at your feet; if you have commanded it.

Sixteen: Hide your goals from those who would impede them, for the Gods have hidden theirs, and the Fates are fickle for the poorest orphan to the mightiest Adventurer. You may find a companion in any Twin of your cause.

Seventeen: Leave footprints and heroic deeds alone where you tread, as making a mistress of Earth is akin to treating a Queen as a concubine. Spoil the soil to reap the reward of Greatness unbound by the coils of current comprehension to reach for new heights of Chadness.

The First of the Brotherhood of Chad - Checking the waves of his home Realm

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{The Compendium Of Chad}

Chapter One

Origins & Ends:

The Journals of Jaynee

"It was as if the entirety of my being was torn into infinite pieces and hurled through a vortex of incomprehensible colors and sounds.

We saw predacious monstrous squid-shaped horrors the size of planets, plucking out morsels in the many directions of time and space that we were flowing in. We could discern no bearing of up or down or back or forward in the Passage whilst contained in our heavily warded and shielded bubble.

I would rather forget, but duty insists that one of us must remember, and so one does and records it as I do here.

The threat of the Undead Empire is one that I hope to never see in my lifetime, but also one that I strive to keep at the forefront of Order and Sect politics.

Preparing for the enemy is never time wasted.

My brothers and sisters had their minds wiped of the events of that day; to be able to function without trauma and at total capacity in an entirely new world. I chose to be the memory keeper, as I was closest to the threat and could tell it firsthand to both our own and whatever we might encounter, be they a being of reason and compassion.

We were in shock before we entered and after, well, not all of us made it intact. Try as we might, what chaos had been inflicted on those on the outer skirts of the bubble could not be undone.

Death was mercy at that point and a sad, cruel one for those having to serve it up. Having just lost our friends, family, home…our whole planet, putting down our peers was a brutal reality of a malevolent universe.

That isn’t important to this tale, and it was a time my heart aches to forget.

Months before the fall of the Palace, the Emperor had commanded that One Thousand Divine-Tier Bags of Holding must be created at a bare minimum and Eight Thousand at maximum.

The bare minimum of the Mandate was an outrageously expensive undertaking during an unprecedented crisis. The Undead was no longer a nuisance to be dispatched of in crypts or caverns when seen but a legitimate threat to the entire living populace of Plouton.

Soul fragments, mana crystals, strings of memories, Ancient Banners, mysterious Gems, and assorted Items of Greatness had been placed in the Bags. They were offered into the Portal before the ritual was completed.

I can only guess, but I believe that they were to be our foundation in a new world and offerings to distract the leviathans feeding off the Portal.

When we were finally deposited in a heap in a wild grassland of beasts we had never seen the likes of, it took hours to regain order and a semblance of dignity from the shreds of an EMPIRE, lost in days…

Every beast of Plouton had long been cataloged. To see new beasts? It could only be a different universe or planet. A stark contrast to the lifeless plains we had left behind.

In the frozen and sparsely inhabited Northern Ice Plains of the World of Plouton, a Portal of immense size had been created and left open to fester like an infected wound. It was a veil of Darkness through which sunlight itself would fail to reach the ground.

The Miasma, or μίασμα as it was known by the Undead Empire, seeped through the ice and snow for decades unknown. Its location was no coincidence, as the Northern Plains were many days travel by sled wide, and one would only find its location if sought after, and even then, if with some hint or clue.

The diseased land spread like mold on bread, devouring anything living over time and turning it into a dark, undead caricature of its former living self.

The Northern Plains Tundra Wolves House, more of a band of clans than any good orderly house, was the first to send word of an unstoppable plague that killed mortals upon touch and would stain an Adventurers soul.

This was a severe threat, one that court mages were sent to investigate in haste and return with their findings.

A team of four Warriors, one Adventurer, three Court Mages, and one Divine Mage of the Brotherhood of Chad were assembled. There existed only a few thousand Divine Chads at any time in the world, and the limits of their power went from breathtaking to brain-melting.

Still, the Emperor himself sent out for aid, and the Divine Mage Chad Wenowan answered.

Yes, THE Wenowan. The Senior Bros of the Orders were rarely called on a scouting mission. And Wenowan was no mere Senior Bro. He was and is a legend, his deeds having survived the death of a planet.

When the Emperor asks, Demi-Gods and Heroes are the ones to answer I guess.

For as Divine as he claims not to be, the Emperor indeed commands the will of the Divine in ways not possible for mere mortals. In turn, however, his duty to mortals can be misinterpreted, as his command over Life is paralleled by the flood of death he must experience to foresee the fates.

Divine Mage Wenowan on the Hunt after arriving at the Outpost

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The Chad of Immense Power just happened to be a Divine, a Brotherhood patron saint. He may follow Orders and paths of his own choosing, yet still, his past actions alone provide him honorary admittance to the Sunday Isles of Stacy, a dimension of never-ending merriment, where glorious battle and delicious feasts go hand in hand.

One short briefing later, after equipping for anything up to a Dragon, a Portal was opened to the Tundra Wolves Arctic Outpost. Not much was expected in the way of backup, but to find total devastation was unnerving.

The only one left to tell the tale and provide insight was my lonesome self, and in that, by the Sixteen, I swear that one moment later and my life would also be lost.

I was the primary Scout Hunter of the team and had been overwatch when the patrol encountered a Horde of Undead. Not just any Horde, but one controlled by an Undead Arch-Mage.

An Undead horde alone is dangerous and has been known to occur when a crypt or cavern core has been disturbed or broken.

When an undead breakout had occurred over the centuries, the typical precedent set was to attack a few villages mindlessly and aimlessly, without any rationale or logic. The village chief or scout or Hunter would get the message to the closest Brotherhood Chapter, and a few Disciple bruhs would be sent to both deal with them and hone their skills.

With an intelligent being mind-controlling a Horde, to act as one army?

And decades to establish its influence?

Our hubris in believing the threat contained was our undoing.

An intelligent undead is a force multiplier proportional to the mental capacity and mana of the Undead mage, for it is their commands that compel them.

An Arch-Necromancer may summon many Undead mages and, in doing so, control more Hordes. But, any momentary lapse in control can be swiftly consumed by their own creations.

The leading theory was that a Higher Undead within the Hierarchy of the Undead Empire had made its way through the open Portal once the Miasma was dense enough to support it.

Most concerningly, it was a Portal that could only have been summoned by a Pentateuch of Arch-Necromancers, or the will of a Divine. During the mad frenzy to Portal to a safer locale, a cultist or even Necromancer could easily have stowed away in our shielded ‘boat’ through…whatever that was.

As no Divine Mages had defected to the Darkness in centuries, it was assumed to be failed disciples, eeking out their own path to the heavens. Whether or not they intended the globe encompassing disaster that unfolded will never be known, no claim has ever been made since we arrived here by various illegally practicing Necromancers, aiming to increase their villainy and reputation, at least none that are verifiable.

All attempts to Portal back to Plouton and establish a hold to take back the world have failed in increasingly worse fashions.

The Divine Mage Wenowon had managed to teleport me back to a hamlet close to the Palace, somehow completing the ritual even while Undead tore at his flesh with gaping mouths of shark-like teeth. Tears and tragedy were all that awaited our ill-fated team, from the moment we entered that Portal.

Jaynee’s Hunters Eye Perk could make out Wenowan, and sadly, the horrific carnage of defeated foes he stood upon to make his sacrifice to save me…

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This one last defiant act of Chadness is often said to be the defining point that saved our Order from complete extinction. The early warning my team was able to bring to the Empire was the impetus for His Majesty, bringing out the Dawn Bite Warhammer of Titans, Greatness.

A weapon not seen in centuries, an item of incredible power and unfathomable destruction in the hands of a skilled Warrior.

From the deep vaults of the Divine Amory depths, it was brought and blessed, polished with significant spikes, to its full glory, as a signifier of the gravity of the threat. And a threat it was, for though the mission goals were partially met, the price for that information was high. In what battle and where the Emperor fights now, I know not, all I can tell of is my truth. And a depressing truth it is.

The two leading Warriors of the scouting party were the first to die; the rocky terrain and mountains had given the team a scant moment of warning.

Too short a time to teleport them back, but too long to cut a path through the Undead Horde swiftly surrounding them.

By the time the rest of the party could fight their way through, The Warriors had been overwhelmed by the assorted skeletons, zombies, plague bearers, and horrific homunculus comprised of many corpses.

Their wounds were terrible, yet they fought on, in a frenzied state, missing a limb here or eye there. A whirlwind of blades awaited the approaching waves of death. Still, that whirlwind could not compete with the cyclone of chaos and writhing bone spikes created by the Hordes of Undead.

In varying states of decay, corpses, skeletons, both human and beast, in the thousands blackened the earth wherever they tread, spreading foul pollution. It was a lost cause if ever I saw one.

Worse than that were the many creations of the Pentateuch, horrific monsters of rotten flesh and sharpened bone.

The mages erected a series of interlaced barrier when it was clear the situation was beyond all hope. I saw them and the Warriors pulling out items from Bags of Holding and activating them.

With my Hunters Eye, I could see clear enough it had turned into a Final Stand situation.

Potions that were lethal to the user and spells that fractured a being’s mana circuits without any means to repair, a means to only one end.

Death and Destruction.

No holds barred.

A glorious death over any misguided attempt at escape.

The Order of Chad Divine Mage Wenowon had started chanting in a language unknown to me and weaving a complicated spell, which turned out to be my salvation.

The Warriors had formed a protective shield wall around him. The other mages erected shields and magic barriers against skeletal archers, foul ravens of ink and shadow. Worse still were the putrid, vile acid volleyed by slug-like creatures of siege weapon approximations.

No matter how many arrows I put in them, there were just too many. An ocean of death against a small team, hell, for a small army.

Before my extremely tumultuous journey through the Passage, that Wenowan had basically thrown me through, at speeds exceeding the arrows already blackening the skies of my position.

I could see little more of the remainder of the battle, but all attempts to trace a survivor have come up short. The rest of the team was expected to have succumbed to the plague or the Undead.

They were post-humorously awarded the Order of Chad Pink Heart. I will never forget the bravery of those who laid down their lives without pause to ensure mine and the Empire’s safety. Their Honor and Virtue are without question.

No one knew why; no one understood the reasoning during those two months…but to question the will of the Emperor’s Mandate?

Heresy. "

  • The Journals of Adventurer Jaynee
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{Compendium of Chad: Origins & Ends - Chapter Two}

Adventurer Jaynee

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Black Arrow, as she was known later on in life, had used the stain of miasma imprinted on her soul by a Necromancer to create her famous Rain of Death skill.

An Order of Brilliance Hunter and Sister of Stacy.

A shadow of the forests, a whisper on the winds.

Order of Brilliance Archives

Compendium Of Chad

Chapter Two

Jaynee’s Journal

"I can understand how such a tale might be viewed as just another Order spy looking to access the Archives, but time has since proven that I speak the truth. The lands in which we arrived were that of what we know now to be the island of Tíknek, and praise the Emperor for the magnitude of what was given to us.

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Hope

A new life on a new world.

Of all the planes of existence we could have ended up on, we arrived nearly on the doorstep of a group of not just other Humans, but ones that shared many of our values, yet had their own path. Although, there were a few cultural misunderstandings in the first years that almost broke the burgeoning relationship.

Matters of the court are not to be settled via competitions to consume excessive amounts of distilled alcohol for one. Most of the other problems solved themselves after that issue was put to rest.

Small things such as a Warhammer is not a paperweight for Brothers or Sisters in Diplomatic positions, nor is a Herd of Cattle a suitable gift to a landless serf, because the serf won an arm wrestling competition.

Although our integration with the new world we had found ourselves in was smooth, the same could not be said for what we had left behind.

As Memory Keeper and half-Elf, by the time these words are read, my Brothers and Sisters will have long since moved on with their lives.

With the world of Plouton decaying and hordes of the Undead Empire at the gate, there was no time for graceful treatment of the heretic, the Mandate was to be carried out, in haste.

The Empire would have customarily made multiple attempts to save any citizen, be they noble or serf, from the Darkness of Anger, Rage, Vitriol, or Fury… usually. The health of the people is the wealth of the Empire, after all.

In the opinion of Southern nobles, the envoys of the Emperor’s Mandate, Senior Bros of the Order of Chad, were asking for an extreme amount of wealth with little benefit. Offering nothing but rumors and hardship in exchange…so they thought.

With barely time for anyone to get to the edges of the Empire and back, His Chadness, Emperor Titan Sain, listed out a series of particular items to be collected from every individual nobles coffer.

Some being priceless swords of heroic Adventurers, others being a barely made plain copper ring.

It mattered not to the Emperor, only that it was a SPECIFIC simple copper ring or an EXACT Wand.

But, supposedly, as these items were assembled in groupings of Eight, the Bag of Holding would close off, regardless of extra space available.

It was a mystery, but not one that any scholar would have had time to research during the short period that the World of Plouton had available.

Towards the end, when the Palace shield fell, we could evacuate less than one thousand citizens. The Emperor could only send forth the best of what we could offer a new world. My inclusion was purely out of luck to have witnessed the threat firsthand, many greater minds or warriors stayed behind knowingly.

From a world of billions, the scope of how little could be Portalled meant that many other Orders would… not make the cut, yet have to have their most essential items parted from them. Some thought it a test of loyalty, others an attempt at immortality. How wrong they were…

Those who failed to cede to the Envoys were branded Heretics and given one chance to repent and forfeit their most significant possessions.

The Emperor made clear that there was the possibility of rebirth beyond this Universe in his Mandate if the defenses should fall. Somedays, I wonder if He believed there was ever a chance.

Those that failed to cede to the Emperor’s Will were treated to the Emperor’s Mercy.

In times of war, this was most commonly a public execution in the Nobles Realm, with their crimes outlaid to the public in full, to detail how the Mayor had siphoned funds or the Dockmaster had accepted bribes and the impact that it had on the Citizens. Death by Numbers was the highest crime with which one could be charged, except Treason.

The Senior Bros entrusted with the Emperor’s Mandate had no time for such tradition. Many a noble found their sinful behavior cured swiftly by a sharp injection of a few feet of steel. I would assume that collecting relics is much easier without a Noble whinging at you, and disrespecting a Senior Bro is just…tempting the fates at best.

At worst?

They may cultivate Virtue or Patience, but they weren’t fond of Nobles at the best of times.

During a period in which their Disciples were fighting countless unwinnable battles, just to stem the tide, there was an icy Anger in their diplomacy by force, to say the least."

{The ABC’s of a Realms Mercenary}

Order of Brilliance Archives

Compendium Of Chad

Volume One, Page Fourty-Seven:

"An arrow wound may be nasty,

But is better than a ballista hit.

Cause one is but a flesh wound, the other, you’re

Deep in shit.

Every warrior of experience

Fears a sun blotted out by arrows

Grab a shield, say a prayer

Hold it in the air, let the Gods decide your fate

If they should be kind, you haven’t joined the late

Just in case offer faith, for ego is insatiate

Kill a man up close, you’ll see an unkind sight

Light of his eyes draining from a former bright.

Many is the man who boasts a killers might

Oddly scant are they when the battle does alight.

Purview of the General is to take the fort,

Quality of the victory, it matters nought

Rage at the cost in blood, issues won’t be fought Suspicious surly sort that knows the price it matters not.

The Victory and Glory, is not for the Soldier

Under wrathful glare, the Sisyishypian boulder

Verily each campaign, a harder day to shoulder

When the twilight sets, the deaths are at his door

Xenium demands that he pays the Boatman’s fare

Yonder does he stare, at a poor and sure despair

Zest for violence quenched in blood spilt in a war he did not declare."

  • Rhyme and Rhythm of an Unknown Mercenary

To the tune of Frédéric Chopin’s Piano Sonata No 2

in B flat minor at double-time for post-war mourning.