Kikikale the Grand Hierophant of the Forest
Kikikale created on 23rd of October 2022, and is currently 35 years old (266 hours played).

Title: the Grand Hierophant of the Forest
Gender: Female
Level: 50
Class: treant druid

Background history:

  1. The Cursed Transformation - posted at 2023-01-04 19:10:02
The Cursed Transformation
Once within the Arcane City, far past the western wall of trees that define the Illusionary Isle, a small tribe of mystics once did live. One of the mystics was known as Kikikale, a foul human with a twisted heart. He was well known for his expertise in the elements, infamous for his pyromancy. Deep within the forest one day, Kikikale tracked a band of refugees who harvested the resources of his land. While it had been agreed amongst his tribe that they would diplomatically move the peaceful tribe out of their forest, Kikikale had an agenda of his own. He found the tribe and set their entire camp on fire in their sleep. However, darkness consumed Kikikale and his consciousness turned into a nightmare - the face of a demon fey laughing at him as he remained paralyzed. Slowly and painfully Kikikale began to feel his body tether itself to the ground, his skin creaking and groaning as it hardened into the bark of a tree. When Kikikale woke, the forest around him was untouched by flame. Strange, he thought. As he went to take a step, he fell flat on his face with a loud crash. Bewildered, he examined his body to find that his human flesh was now that of a treant, his life form trapped inside the heart of an ancient tree - cursed by the demon fey. It was from this moment that Kikikale swore revenge on the soul who did this to him and any who stood in his way.

Description (commended):

A beautiful monument of nature looms over you, casting a shadow of resilience and order. The tower of this being is amplified even further by the encapsulating shroud of branches and vines about body and trunk. Each vine slowly vacillates between obedience and chaos as the earth beneath it rumbles, shifting the blood stained oak of its mass. The crevices within this oaken fortress are etched in runes, shimmering and shifting as the light strikes them and their age. Two shallow holes dig deep into the aged bark, carving a shallow socket around each white ball that stares back at them with omnipotence. Overall the stance of this entity is stoic and powerful, a body framed by the trials of the world that has shaped it. Each deep socket on his face flickers with an eerie black flame that mirror an elemental existence of death and decay.

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