Name: Kaaldira Race: Great Fairy Age: Unknown Gender: Female Place of Origin: Subrosia P4/W5/C1 Treasures: Fairy Magic (Innate) Specialty: Fire (Racial) Magic Proficiency (Racial) Hover (Racial) Curse of Heat (35 Rupees, cost reduction due to Specialty) Fire (-20 Magic Proficiency Rupees, cost reduction due to Specialty) Weapon Curse: Heat (-20 Magic Proficiency Rupees, cost reduction due to Specialty) Fire Augment: No Instrument Required (5 Rupees, cost reduction due to Specialty) Goron Punch (25 Rupees, cost reduction due to Specialty) Foreign Language: Subrosian (15 Rupees) Spark (5 Rupees) Purify (Holiday Moblin 2018 reward) Blue Fire (Holiday Moblin 2018 reward) Rupees: 15 Kinstones: Blue Clover Height: 6'3 Weight: 199 Ibs. Equipment: Absolutely nothing. Residence: Atop a foreboding peak located deep within the bowels of Subrosia, there lies a bubbling pool of lava. Kaaldira has chosen this as her fairy spring. Pet: Not applicable. Appearance: *Thanks to Inky for this absolutely breathtaking art! Tall, with visibly muscled limbs, Kaaldira is perhaps more brawny than most Hylians would expect a Great Fairy to be, yet she also possesses the ample curves and generous bust thought to be characteristic of female members of the mystical race. Despite her size, she moves with an unearthly grace that belies her formidable physique, even in combat. Much like the element she exemplifies, Kaaldira's body is in a constant state of flux. In its natural state, her skin resembles polished obsidian, but periodically glowing yellow cracks will form along its surface, eventually "erupting" in the manner of an open wound, oozing a lava-like fluid that is extremely warm to the touch and exposing red, orange, or bronze flesh beneath (the exact hue is likewise ever-changing). Before long, however, the affected areas cool and return to their original obsidian mold, beginning the cycle anew. There is a degree of unpredictability to her appearance, as any number of these miniature fissures may exist at any given time. Additionally, two pinions of blackened bone jut out from her back; whenever Kaaldira takes to the air, these protrusions alight into wings of fire. Coupled with her amazonian build, these strange traits often serve to unsettle or intimidate onlookers. As if painstakingly sculpted from volcanic rock, Kaaldira's face is smoothly rounded, with statuesque features. Twin orbs of orange fire function as her eyes, flickering like an open flame to simulate movement. Her scalp secretes a pale yellow substance akin to molten wax, creating the illusion of long, waist-length "hair" that continually drips down her body. This "hair" is usually her sole source of modesty, as years of living in lava have left Kaaldira with little use for clothing. Personality: Let it never be said that Kaaldira's mind is any less fiery than her body, for her emotions run as hot as a raging inferno. A proud, passionate creature, the Great Fairy's seemingly stoic countenance belies a fiercely competitive spirit, one that refuses to allow any insult or trespass go unanswered. Her usual response to any slight, real or imagined, is to challenge the offending party to single combat, and she can be viciously territorial when it comes to defending her fairy spring. At the same time, however, Kaaldira respects strength, and those who can cool or otherwise circumnavigate her quick temper will find her a steadfastly loyal ally. Indeed, once befriended, she can laugh, revel, and even love with a burning intensity. Fittingly for one so attuned to Din's chosen element, Kaaldira revels in the rush of battle. Though she wields potent fire magic, she prefers to destroy her foes in hand-to-hand combat, using her fists and feet to deliver punishing unarmed strikes capable of searing an opponent's flesh. While this aggression serves her well in a melee, it also leaves her prone to reckless behaviour. In particular, she tends to vastly overestimate her own capabilities and believes the concept of retreat to be distasteful. Unfortunately, even a friendly sparring match has the potential to turn deadly when Kaaldira is involved: A lifetime of facing creatures that are naturally immune to fire has left her unaccustomed to holding back, and those that accept her invitation to a bout often risk serious injury or death at her igneous hands. Having never encountered one of her own kind, Kaaldira possesses little knowledge of what it means to be a Great Fairy, which vexes her to no end. The past holds no answers for her, as she has no recollection of her life prior to her ascension. However, she often finds herself beset by inexplicable compulsions: An overwhelming desire to protect something... A need to be venerated... An instinctive loathing of Shadow magic and its practitioners (she has termed such magics "The Long Dark," for reasons known only to her)... These urges form the core of her guiding principles, and thus she often gives the impression of having a strong moral compass. In reality, she simply clings to them because they give her a sense of purpose, though she is steadily beginning to develop a disdain for those who use their power to harm the defenseless. On a similar note, Kaaldira remains woefully ignorant of most social conventions. Although she proudly proclaims to be Subrosia's guardian, she secretly wishes to learn more of the world, and can be quite grateful to any who offer to teach her. Because of this, she often values information far more highly than it is truly worth, and can be coaxed into performing services in exchange for relatively mundane facts. Of course, actually getting Kaaldira to follow any of the advice she is given is a different matter altogether, for she is ultimately a free spirit- Fire cares not what it scorches, it simply burns. Biography: Kaaldira has been alive longer than she has been alive. A strange paradox, yet true all the same. The Subrosians had told her so. Such inquisitive creatures they were, forever in search of secrets and treasures. It was their curiosity which drove them to explore the Temple of Seasons (What was a season? Neither she nor the Subrosians understood the term), and it was there, on a hidden sublevel located beneath the wing dedicated to the "season" of Summer, that they had found her. A tiny, winged body, surrounded by a spherical aura of glowing scarlet light and encased within a solitary floating crystal. She had been smaller, then. A mere flicker of what she was now. According to the Subrosians, at least. They had thought her dead, for her eyes were closed, her limbs limp, and her tale lost to the annals of history. Perhaps she had been... Try as she might, Kaaldira could not recall the circumstances which had led to her interment within the crystalline barrier. Was it her tomb? Her prison? She had always wondered what it must have been like, having eyes that could close... Regardless, her discoverers had elected to leave her be, though whether out of respect or fear, Kaaldira had never been certain. What was certain was that her rebirth had been the result of... an accident. A team of Subrosian architects tasked with the temple's maintenance had mistakenly tapped into a lava flow, flooding the concealed chamber that had housed her for Din-knew-how-long (… Din? Where had that word come from? And why did it sound so familiar...?). The crystal containing her had been quickly swallowed up by the lava, and then... Kaaldira remembered this part. She had risen from the molten mire, a shrieking mass of smoldering flesh, her body wracked by the agonizing sensation of being burned alive (What was it like NOT to burn?) and her mind assailed by a rush of half-glimpsed memories all at once. The terrible pain threatened to blot out all else, and in desperation, she had seized upon one of these memories, preserving it as the others were lost to oblivion. Kaaldira. A name. Hers. Yet this revelation had not been enough to soothe the fury brought on by her torment, and Kaaldira had raged against the immaculate walls of the Temple, battering them with her fists and searing them with the flames that sprang forth from her knuckles. She had not noticed that she had grown in size and power, that she had somehow become a Great Fairy. To her, it was as if she had always been so. It was then that she encountered the small, robed ones. Subrosians. In her anger, she had turned her fire upon them, but they proved impervious to the immense heat. Unperturbed, one of them had stepped forward and spoke to her in a tongue she understood, causing her to halt her rampage. He saw that she was in pain. He offered her... aid. Solace. Something of that nature, so long ago... Whatever his words, they had persuaded her to relent and return with them to their village. For a time, she had walked among them, learning their language and customs. They taught her much, regarding her with awe, and she grew fond of them in her own way. But she was not whole. Every so often, she *knew* things without knowing how she knew them. She was missing a part of herself, a part that remained eternally out of reach. The torturous, unbearable pain clouded her mind whenever she sought to remember, save for a nagging sense that she was neglecting something. Though well-intentioned, the Subrosians' remedies were unable to heal her shattered psyche, and soon she had fallen into a bleak despair. They viewed her with both wonder and pity, but they did not worship her. To them, she was a visitor, not a visitation. This bothered her, yet she could not say why. She knew they had meant no malice, but their nonchalance in her presence was maddening. She did not belong there. Feeling increasingly isolated for no apparent reason, Kaaldira eventually fled into Subrosia's mountains with nary a word, in the hopes of regaining her stolen memories through meditating upon herself in solitude. Her self-imposed exile had carried her across the breadth of Subrosia, until at last she stumbled upon a sizable pool of lava nestled atop a fiery peak, and she claimed it as her spring. Yes, for she was a Great Fairy, and all Great Fairies had springs, did they not? This sudden realization had filled her with joy. Already she had reclaimed this aspect of herself. She had made the right decision. How much time had passed since then? Over a century, and little progress to show for it. There were small victories here and there- She had the vaguest recollection that she was fated to protect something, and she knew that there were many creatures that lived outside Subrosia... Creatures she had never made contact with... Creatures that would not survive her flames. But on the whole, her mirth had been premature, and she had been forced to confront the fact that perhaps her exodus had been a mistake. To make matters worse, the pain had never truly subsided, though she learned to endure the worst of it. Still, her pride would not allow her to return. Anger. Anguish. Just as a spark can set off an inferno, her melancholy had fueled the building frustration inside her, igniting her ennui into a frightful rage as if it were tinder. The local fauna bore the brunt of her rancour: Styling herself as the Guardian of Subrosia, she would sally forth to wrestle the great fire worms that dwelled within the lava. It was a futile gesture, for she could not meaningfully harm beings of flame, nor could they harm her or the Subrosians. In her heart, she knew that Subrosia had no need of a warden; its very environment was enough to deter any invader. She was a warrior with no battles to fight. Her escapades had made her stronger, but without a conflict in which to employ it, her power was meaningless. Her only respite from her loneliness was the pilgrims. While her name had faded into obscurity, a scant few Subrosians still clung to the legend of the fire spirit that once walked amongst them. Now and again, one would make the journey to her spring and toss offerings into the lava. This pleased her, and she would humour her guest, rising from the pool and taking on the role of an imposing judge that weighed their deeds carefully, meting out rewards and punishments as she saw fit. In particular, she had taken a strange pleasure in challenging these wayfarers to duels or contests of strength, honing her technique through battle. There were great triumphs and bitter defeats, but regardless of the result, these bouts had made her feel truly alive. But they could only delay the inevitable. The visits grew less and less frequent as the years went on, and once more she had found herself on the verge of surrendering to utter despondence. That was when the Others came. Snorting, squealing creatures, broad of stature, with tusks jutting from their mouths. They had come in search of plunder, but they had found only death. Ill-suited to the climate as they were, the foolhardy raiders had dragged themselves up her mountain, stopping by her spring to rest. She had never seen things of their ilk before, but she *knew* they were her enemies. When she emerged from her spring to demand an explanation for their intrusion, they had brandished their weapons and attacked her, perhaps mistaking her for a monster. A monster would have shown more mercy. With a flick of her hand, she immolated one. She seized another, hurling him into the lava. She had punched, grappled, incinerated the invaders. One by one they had fallen, until only their leader remained. Wielding foul magics, he lashed out at her with tendrils of shadow, darker than even the farthest-flung corners of Subrosia where the glow of fire could not reach. His sorcery had cut deep into her, wounding her, and she had screamed as loudly as the day she had been born. The shadow, the Long Dark... The hurts it inflicted were more potent than even her daily suffering. When she raised her hand to throw a fireball in retaliation, the creature merely laughed, shrugging off her fire as if it were nothing. Thinking his victory assured, the Other had jeered at her, boasting that so long as he wore his tribal earring, he was protected from her flames. Stupid. His guffaws had turned to shrieks of horror when Kaaldira lunged at him, tearing the trinket from his ear, and casting it from the top of the peak. Stripped of his defenses, he had offered little resistance as she took hold of his neck and placed her palm upon his face... Once his struggles had ceased entirely, she dropped the body, surveying her handiwork. The rush of combat was exhilarating... doubly so when her opponents actually posed a danger to her. Yes, this felt right. These were her foes, she was sure of it... She was meant to fight them, meant to smite them... But they were from the Surface. The more well-traveled Subrosians had told her of the Surface, of course. A bizarre realm with no ceiling, green as their robes, and deathly cold. What was cold? Kaaldira had never understood the concept. An inescapable numbness, that made you shudder and shake, they had said. She had asked if it was similar to the Subrosian Dance. They had shaken their heads, and she had asked if they were cold. Truthfully, it had sounded quite terrible to her. As uneventful as Subrosia was, it had been hospitable, and she possessed a certain affinity for the fiery realm. But now that she had seen Surfacers firsthand, she began to wonder. What if the purpose she so desperately sought could be found up there? What if the Surface held the secrets to mastering the flames that burned within her? What if, what if, what if... Kaaldira clenched her fists. There was only one way to find out... Rupee History: Holiday Moblin 2018: Purify, Blue Fire Day of the Halved Stone: Blue Clover Kinstone
