[attr="class","apptraitscont"]

The lake, crystal clear, and teeming with life, was a lone safe haven from the daemons and ruptures that hound the Mountains. The natural mana accumulation around the area allowed for the existence of a gentle spirit, who nurtured and protected life in, and around the lake's vicinity. Inevitably--it was only a matter of time--the humans reached the lake. The spirit has been waiting for this very moment. The Aer carried the news of a new emerging life, capable of incredible feats, and the spirit was more than eager to meet them. The spirit lent to the humans the lake's waters and offered them the fertile land along its banks. In return, the humans built shrines and temples to honor her and dedicated grand festivals to her. Indeed, the spirit was most impressed. In no time, the nameless spirit soon assumed an identity. From then on, she became The Guardian Deity of the Lake.[break][break]

It was a particularly dry year, which continued to a decade of intense heat. It had been a little over five centuries since the humans arrived, and The Guardian Deity of the Lake had never felt a burden this heavy. She watched as the previously fertile land dried up, as the crops withered. She watched as the humans' feeble skin cling to nothing but bones, and she watched their pitiable bodies buried six feet underground. But she was unable to help, there was simply no way. As the landscape changed and the climate shifted, the daemons waiting in the shadows pounced. The lake was no longer a safe haven--it became a bloody, murky swamp, infested with countless maggots.[break][break]

It was a slow and painful transition. The humans left, and the spirit was left behind, her life tied to the lifeless lake. In a desperate attempt, she hailed water off from the lake and cleansed it with what little power she had left. She hailed the measly drop of clearwater--her life, heart, and soul--in a crystal and mounted it on her staff. She felt torn--what she did to live killed her. No longer a goddess of her people, she limped away, carrying what was left of her soul.[break][break]

Firuzeh woke up in cold sweat. That dream... That dream again. It was always so vivid, so detailed, it scared Firuzeh how well she can remember it, detail by detail. Her eyes inevitably turned to look at her staff tucked away in the corner of the room. The staff was an heirloom, passed down thru generations and given to the most powerful witch of the family. The gem atop the staff supposedly contained pristine waters, which is never disturbed however hard the staff was swung. It was the source of their family's power... or so the legends say. Firuzeh's emerald eyes were locked on the gem and its luminescence.[break][break]

'In a desperate attempt, she hailed water off from the lake and cleansed it with what little power she had left. She hailed the measly drop of clearwater--her life, heart, and soul--in a crystal and mounted it on her staff.'[break][break]

Firuzeh slapped herself on the cheek. Hard.[break][break]

"Ah, please, Firuzeh. Get over it," she mumbled to herself, before going back to sleep.[break][break]

[attr="class","appplayedby"]played by [attr="class","appooc"][attr="id","pegasuscol"]fudgeebear