Description
Standing roughly four and a half feet tall upon her hindpaws, this mangy
fela licks her paws without concern to your staring. Her fur is slightly
iridescent and a mixture of red and gold with black stripes. A red and
gold mane looking well-groomed gives her the somewhat fearsome visage
of a lion. Her eyes are narrow and nothing in the world seems more
interesting than her paw at the moment as she cleans each hair with her
tongue. You then notice the enormous six inch razor-sharp claws whose tips
glisten in the light. When she notices that you notice these, she stops
cleaning her paws and grins malevolently at you.
Role
Curse of the Pooka
Added Thu Aug 30 17:59:27 2007 at level 32:
If you ever asked her, Djrra might say that she is the smartest, quickest,
strongest, and most cunning hunter there ever was. For all practical
purposes, she isnt. But she isnt terrible. However, knowing that
isnt all that important. What is important is knowing why she does what
she does, to a certain extent.
Like any felar with malign intent, she is ruled by the need to hunt and kill.
A "civilized" felar with an evil heart is somewhat of a running joke in
felar communities. She was raised among wolves, so to speak, in the plains
north of Voralia. The tight-knit group of bandits that comprised her
"family" waylaid travelers, robbing them of their belongings and money,
and often killed them. As there was no other example for her to live by, this
is how she grew up.
A day came by when Djrra, off on her own and learning to waylay travelers by
her lonesome was distracted by a rabbit. She decided she was hungry and gave
chase, frightening the poor thing as it darted this way and that across the
plains. Dusk was approaching and she didnt want to lose her prey in the
darkness, so she doubled her speed. The rabbit dashed between the legs of a
creature Djrra didnt notice until it was right in front of her. The
creature, which appeared to be a horse, stomped furiously, distracting the
felas attention and causing her to lose her prey. In a fit of anger, she
swiped at the face of the horse, raking her claws across its maw. It neighed
furiously and charged her. She was so taken aback by this that she leaped
into the air and landed on the horses back. It then sped up. Djrra dug her
claws in and held on, too frightened to let go and jump off.
Over plains, hills, and mountains it strode until reaching the walls of a
city. Djrra found that she couldnt move, held in place by some unnatural
spell. In the waning light of dusk, she could see large men with whips
beating the backs of stooped laborers carrying rocks and adding
fortifications to the wall. The eyes of the laborers looked dull and
complacent, like those of cows who knew what fate awaited them and had no
spirit left to hope for something better.
With a shot, the horse was off again. It galloped through forests and on top
of rivers. It seemed to go so fast that its hooves didnt even touch the
ground. It stopped again in front of the Imperial palace. Several Imperials
gathered around the wriggling, writhing, trussed body of an elf. They took
turns branding the elf with iron as he screamed in pain. They jeered at him
and reveled in his torture.
The horse lept into the air and came down running at full speed again. This
time, it charged straight at a wall and just as Djrra tried to brace for the
impact, she and the horse flowed through it as though it were nothing but
mist. The horse skidded to a halt as a legion of armed guards cornered a
criminal. As the criminal threw up his hands and begged for mercy, one of the
guards stepped forward and ran his sword through the gut of the criminal.
In the blink of an eye, Djrra and the horse were back on the plains where she
first saw it. She was able to move again and released her claws from the
flank of the horse. She tentatively lept down and turned to look at the
creature. Staring straight back at her, it started to speak, but oddly,
without moving its mo