Paratiri

Paratiri is the goddess of storms.

## Domain

Storms - Light and darkness, the cold water and the heat of the fire, heaven and earth, these are forces often understood to be in opposition, yet when the storm comes they are comrades, bringing, for a short moment, an event of unimaginable power that makes the entire world under it comes to a still, demanding respect, a moment of survival and instinct not of philosophy and brooding.

To take the world by storm is to come suddenly, yet also to stay briefly. The power of the storm is great and short-lived, it is meant to be seized and used for all its purpose at the moment, there is no preparation and no room for hesitation. Just do it.

The storm brings distress to all, but it also opens new paths, the ancient tree is uprooted by the strong winds, a tragedy, yet for the sapling that was malnourished in its shadow, it means the chance to finally prove it can grow as tall as the trees that look down upon it. The slate is washed clean, claims of superiority are only valid with proof.

## Myth

The man of Frontera smirked as they marched forward. This war was over before it even began, there was no contest of this. How could their enemy ever hope to face them? Their population was immense, living comfortably in great cities, their enemy lived in small jungle villages. Their weapons were backed by a worldwide network of trade, the best steel, gunpowder, and provisions for the soldiers to feast on, their enemy carried simple weapons of crude iron. The man of Frontera smirked because they believed themselves to be superior.

But was that the truth?

Their pride had offended the storm goddess, they believed themselves to be above all and often spoke loudly about such things, never caring if a deity was listening. They claimed they could beat anything for they were the superior people of the region, but they did not expect such claims to be challenged. But they would.

The day once bright and clear quickly darkened, the wind started to howl and the thunder to roar. The first droplets of rain quickly washed away the smugness out of the face of the man of Frontera. Orders and barks started to sound, set up camp, seek shelter, prepare for the winds. But this was a storm of divine fury, no canvas or leather would shield them from it.

One by one their advantages were taken away. In the chaos of flashing light and raging rain the horses ran, the guns were made into damp useless sticks, the supplies were scattered and forgotten. Noble armor found itself being left behind, stuck among the jungle vines, finely crafted swords clumsily slid of the hand into the mud.

But no man was harmed, the goddess didn't want that. For this was a test. Soon the sky cleared again, as quickly as it had darkened, and the damp, muddied, man of Frontera found themselves and their bearings again, they were unharmed, but all advantages they had were stripped away during the storm. They would have to prove their worth on equal footing to their enemy, who had found their location by all the screaming once the storm had passed.

But of course, it was soon proven that the men of Frontera were worthless to their core. Take away their cannons and steel shells and you had overfed lazy child-like men not worthy of the riches their country had. As they faced the jungle tribe they so much despised and saw as inferior they were slaughtered without mercy, all but one man returning to tell the tale. Or rather, the warning.

## Forms

### Base Form

Paratiri shifts between two forms, one is a lesser version of the harpy-like true form, the second, is that of a human female, a fit body equivalent to that of a soldier, often used so she can better explore the world around her, her wings can be hidden or shown while in this human shape. She enjoys crafting her own armor and weapons all of which have a unique lightning-infused look.

### True Form

In her true form, Paratiri becomes a harpy. While she can take a similar shape normally, her true form is of greater size and has a disc of light behind her, as if made from lightning-turned metal. This is however merely the most physical aspect of the true form, as soon one will notice the sky above them changing. It is as if heaven itself is breaking like crystal, a darkness deeper than possible overtakes it while symbols of light twirl in a vortex around an eye-like shape. The air becomes still, silent, every voice echoes. This isn't the raging edge of the storm, this is the very eye of it.