The Oath of the Revolution binds a paladin not to crown or god, but to upheaval itself. These warriors rise where oppression festers, bearing oaths sworn in blood and fire. They fight to break chains—literal and symbolic—and usher in new orders through flame, blade, and defiance.
Revolutionary paladins don patchwork armor—scraps of noble plate, militia leathers, and salvaged banners stitched into capes. Their gear is scorched, repurposed, or stolen from the regimes they topple. Their symbols are not holy sigils, but marks of rebellion: broken manacles, inverted thrones, open eyes. Their blades gleam not with divine favor, but with the resolve of the desperate.
Deep within Zin’s shattered undercity, Revolutionaries train in caverns lit by oilfire and oratory. There, they memorize the tactics of past revolts, reforge the weapons of tyrants into tools of justice, and etch their creeds into stone. They debate law like scripture and practice sabotage between sermons. No command is above question. No peace is accepted if built on silence.
The Revolutionary believes the world must be broken before it can be healed. They are stormbearers, agents of collapse, and midwives of what comes after. No oath is eternal, no throne unshakable. They tear down the sacred and force gods to answer. And when the ashes cool, they do not kneel—they build.