"An
unyielding avatar of the moon's power, Diana wages a dark crusade against the
sun-worshipping Solari. Though she once sought the acceptance of her people,
years of futile struggle shaped her into a bitter,ter, resentful warrior. She
now presents her foes with a terrible ultimatum: revere the moon's light, or
die by her crescent blade. Though she was born to the Solari, Diana's
inquisitive nature set her apart from her brethren. She had always found solace
and guidance in the night sky, and questioned the dominance of the sun in her
society. The Solari elders responded to her challenges with only derision and
punishment. Diana remained convinced, however, that if she could find evidence
of the moon's power, the elders would listen to reason. For years, she studied
Solari archives in solitude until she discovered an encoded message hidden in
an old tome. This clue led her to a secluded valley on Mount Targon where she
unearthed the hidden entrance to an ancient, sealed temple. Inside, among aging
relics and faded murals, she found an ornate suit of armor and a beautiful
crescent blade, both inscribed with sigils of the moon. Diana donned the
armaments and returned to the Solari elders that night. She declared that the
artifacts proved others had once worshipped the moon as she did. Her discovery
of evidence challenging Solari dominion shocked the elders. To Diana's horror,
they pronounced her a heretic and condemned her to death. As the elders
prepared her for execution, Diana's anger and sorrow overwhelmed her desire for
acceptance. She lifted her gaze to the sky, calling upon the moon for strength.
Lunar power surged within her and she shattered her bindings. Raising her relic
blade, she turned and slaughtered the elders. With the temple in ruins behind
her, Diana resolved to destroy all those who would deny the power of the moon.
''The sun does not reveal truth. Its light only burns and blinds.''
"Longing to take control of her fate, the ancient, dying plant
Zyra transferred her consciousness into a human body for a second chance at
life. Centuries ago, she and her kind dominated the Plague Lands,using thorns
and vines to consume any animal that set foot in their territory. As the years
passed, the animal population steadily died off. Food became increasingly
scarce, and Zyra could only stand by helplessly as the last of her kin withered
away. She thought she would perish alone, until the appearance of an unwary
sorceress presented her with an opportunity for salvation. It was the first
time in years Zyra had sensed a creature wander so close. Hunger drew her to
the sorceress, but some other, deeper instinct compelled her. She enveloped the
woman in thorns with ease, but as she savored this final meal, foreign memories
invaded her thoughts. She saw great jungles of metal and stone where humans and
animals thrived. Potent magic surged through her vines, and she devised an
elegant but risky plan to survive. Using the woman’s memories, Zyra poured her
newfound magic into the creation of a human-shaped vessel. She didn’t know what
sort of world awaited her, but she had nothing left to lose. When Zyra opened
her eyes, she was overwhelmed by the raw power ready at her fingertips. It
wasn’t until she noticed the shriveled remains of the plant she once was that
she realized how vulnerable she had become. If this body died, there would be
no network of vines to retreat through, no roots to regrow her...but she felt
truly alive. She beheld the world for the first time as animals did, and a dark
smile crept across her lips. She was reborn, and there was so much now within
her grasp. ''Closer to the flower, closer to the thorns.''
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