The Age of Lost Omens
A cheerful cleric, aged unnaturally, who exhibits a strange effect on arcane spells
A young woman who appears to be in her twenties, Kiira has the natural physique of the Steelstrike clan, being able to swing a hammer or work a bellows for hours without growing tired. Blonde haired and with striking red-orange eyes, she is conventionally very attractive, and yet she acts and moves in a strangely childlike manner, tending to skip rather than walk, and to display a guilelessness that most would find concerning. She is very much a student of philosophy, and yet she views the world in black and white terms. For all that she can recite prayers or how to smith steel from memory, most would consider her shockingly ignorant about many aspects of the world.
Kiira Steelstrike remembers nothing of her youth, awakening one morning in her father Vanir’s home, in the remains of a crib shattered by her six-foot, muscular frame. She does remember a great deal of time spent with her uncle Ilmarinen, of him teaching her to swing a hammer, both to smith and to fight, and of much time spent in prayer and philosophical conversation. It is most confusing to her, then, that the people who have identified themselves as her relatives insist that she never spent any of that time with Ilmarinen.
The sudden blossoming of this woman into their midst most unnerved the Steelstrikes, especially Vanir, and the family overcame a distaste for magic to call upon both prominent clerics and mages to discover the source of Kiira’s aging. Magic, they were told, and yet, a further diagnosis was never produced, for those mages discovered that being in Kiira’s presence had a strange way of weakening their magic, as though she were absorbing it like a dry sponge. The clerics had better luck, determining that Kiira displayed a natural affinity towards godly magic. Ultimately, however, neither were able to reverse her aging.
Kiira quickly grew upset by the suspicion of her relatives, the anger of her father, and the hated tone with which they all referred to her uncle. Surely, she reasoned, he was a good man, for he had taught her and raised her to be kind to the weak and unfortunate, and to seek out evil where it lurked. Further, she felt a tugging at her very a core, a desire to find something, though she could not say what.
And so, not long after she was aged, she stole into her family armory, where she borrowed a set of plate mail worn by one of her ancestors, and took up a smithing hammer. Thus equipped, she set out with one goal in mind: find her uncle. He, she was certain, would explain everything.