Rod of Purangi

"Glory of Am!" the slaad chanted. "Step forward and receive his blessing."
The slaadi approached the Archon one by one to hold the smooth, metal rod in their hands. A light shined within them, illuminating their core like embers and rejuvenating their power.
"Followers of Yosarum, forsake your cold god and be spared by Am. Clasp the Rod of Pūrangi, purge your sins, and be welcomed in His home."
A dull murmur subsided, and the first of the captured cultists approached the stage. Touching the metal made his hands feel numb, but a warmth filled his body. It was the first truly warm sensation he had felt since his death. A slaadi moved him along, and another cultist took his place.
Once each had taken their turn, they were all freed from their bonds, but a malaise took hold of the crowd. The numbness was replaced by sharp pain, and the warmth turned into searing heat. They began to burst one by one. The last cultist waited helplessly until he too combusted, and in his place stood a newborn slaad.
"Glory of Am!"