Iiea the Force of Nature

PK Wins

Role

Chapter 2

A now seasoned druidess, rested upon the highest peaks of the Tahril
Mountains. She sought meditation and respite from the brutal and never-ending
fight for Thar-Eris. In an endless cycle of hunts, she found these mountain
top perches or or even her aimless flights as a condor, rare gems of peace in
which she could reflect on what they were fighting for.

Today it was the wisdom she had to put into words for the young but quickly
strengthening reaver Umotomonou that she reflected on. The young fire shaman
had come to her with a simple question, seeking enlightenment. "Why do some;role + hear the calls of Thar-Eris while others do not?" She reflected on those
words and the wisdom being the teacher had brought.

From the moment we are born, our lives are raging a war of nature vs nurture.
Man has become the wolf who discovered fire and tools and in his greed and
fear sought to block out the Mother completely, fearful of her wrath and fat
on too many nuts gathered for the winter. What started as simple tools and
fire such as the beaver dams or the nesting of a bird grew quickly once
tasted to a desire to block out the wrath of nature completely and safeguard
against all pains of hunger.

Dwellings gave way to cities. Food stores gave way to coins. Man sought walls
to block out the cries of Thar-Eris that might hurt him while at the same
time he sought to build up a system where one would never fear thirst or
starvation. The alpha wolf was no longer the strongest in spirit, but was
chosen by the one who could gather the symbols of their system and currency
they had created. The more they could enslave to this system of order beneath
them, the faster they rose.

Soon man no longer simply warded himself against the vengeance and natural
cycle. He cutoff his ears, nose, and eyes so that he would not have to be
reminded. And in it, he deemed himself to be upholding...order.

From the moment a young wolf of any race is born, their lives are now a
constant struggle in a waged war between nurture and nature. Left to their
own devices expect the most simple teachings of a mother bears coaxing to her
cubs, easier would the path to Thar-Eris be found. Instead, they are born
into cultures where those that breed them have already shutoff the calls of
Thar-Eris. Blocked behind shuttered door, blocked behind the slavery of
coins, blocked behind the political teachings they hold on a false pedestal
as If it is more precious than the sun and moon itself.

We hunt not simply those who have declared war against Thar-Eris. We hunt
those whose existence and beliefs decimate the call of Thar-Eris from the
moment they are born. This is why we fight paladins. This is why we hunt
those lost in order. They are the parent who overfeeds the child and call it
love. They are the one who lets the horse founder on oats. They coddle the
world while they slowly kill it off.

Role

Chapter 1

Flash.

She chased into the onslaught of scudding storm clouds drawing across her
rugged cliff side tribe in the southern mountains of the Silverwood.

Flash.

She gritted her beak. She flexed her talons. The storm spiraled though it was
too vast to truly sense the hurricanes width.

Flash.

Lightning struck and she dodged. Struck again, and she twirled in flight,
avoiding it's destructive forces though delighting in its crackling energy.
Where other arials fled from such bolts, she inexplicably craved it's power
and energy.

Flash.

Into the maelstrom she flew. And sight was gone. Still she flew, using only
her internal compass to tell ground from sky. A bolt of lightning racked her
body, and consciousness faded.

The visions came as the always did: Gone were her peoples life consuming
daily tribal fights against the Talshidar to the east. Gone were the raids on
the lumberman in the weald. In her visions the stakes were much higher.

Floating.

She stood among an army of creatures both benevolent and dark, faeries and
dark animals, common and mysterious with the warriors for Thar-Eris at her
side. The Ancients blessed their army as nature rose in their wake.

Falling.

Ahead stood terrible armies of conjured beings and the cities of man. Orcs
and Minotaurs moved among them. Paladins of light fought against them on one
side. The Dread Lords of man on the other similarly opposed them.

Blinding Light

There amidst it all, feathers covered in ancient druid robes, she stood. Iiea
Stormseeker. A tribal warrior no more, but now an Arch-Druid. The final
fruition of a young arial girl who dared chase lightning when others would
retreat from their flights in the skies.

She woke. She lay in a mountain meadow, battered and bruised and wondered if
it was all a dream, still a simple tribal warrior among her people. Yet
nearby the mountain vines strengthened in her shadow, and something began to
take hold...

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