[center][b]Ialu[/b][/center]
[center][b]Level 7 Hero[/b][/center]

Ialu sat cross-legged within his home, the squat structure that his tribe called the Mighty Hut. At least three or four times larger than the other huts in the village and situated on the very top of the hill, his hut loomed over all else, dominating its surroundings just as the village itself entirety dominated the landscape. He needed such a big hut, both to denote his status and to have room for all of his women. Meditating on a mat next to the charred patch of ground in the middle of his dirt floor, the spot where he usually had a fire, Ialu suddenly felt a cold shiver creep up his spine. That was most unusual this time of year, for the flowers were in full bloom.

Rising to his feet, the chieftain walked through his doorway. The view immediately outside was beautiful, being that of the river's lazy waters down below. Of course, at times the river was tumultuous and its banks flooded, the cruel waters sweeping away all that they could, but no such disaster would take away his village. With its great walls and moat, neither flood nor foe could conquer the Strong Tribe's home.

But Ialu had not left his hut to enjoy the view! His eyes gazed skyward, only to see no sun and no blue sky, only ghostly grey clouds that had swallowed up the entire world above. There had been no such storm clouds earlier in the day, and there had only been the occasional eddy of wind to cool a tired and hot hunter. Now, those clouds carpeted the entire sky and already there was a howling, icy wind. The temperature outside was plummeting, as if all the heat and life was being drained out of Galbar like a mosquito might suck out blood. As his eyes only stared upwards in confusion, one lonely snowflake fell upon his nose, its crisp touch cooling his entire face. A few moments later, more snowflakes fell from the heavens. Within minutes this turned into a blizzard, the first snowflake not being so lonely after all!

Rapidly the snow began to pile up. The tribesmen hurried to the nearby grove of trees to gather more firewood for their stores, and once they had stockpiled enough sticks there set about creating fires to warm their huts. Even this was hard, for the magical cold lashed out at sparks and stifled all heat, denying most the ability to create fire. What few huts did succeed in creating fires were quickly filled to the brim as neighbors entered to stay there for warmth, the winds being so powerful that the villagers were unable to simply carry a torch from the lit fires back into their huts to start blazes of their own. Quickly the snow began to pile up to the point that it was difficult to even walk the narrow paths between the village's huts. Using the Wi, the tribesmen lifted this snow and hurled it over the earthworks around the village. It was a grim realization when the tribe suddenly noticed that some of their people were missing, having been out hunting a long ways away when the snows started. It was not until late in the night that the frostbitten hunters at last returned, having had to push through feet of snow and trudge miles in the freezing dark to find their way back.

This continued for three days, his people able to survive off of what meat they had stored, until it became unbearable. The firewood was now becoming scare with the tribe having lacked the time to prepare, and it was quickly becoming too difficult to gather more in the snows. Ialu had to put an end to this accursed winter, or else he feared that many would die and his village might be destroyed. Already some of the now-abandoned huts that lacked fires were beginning to collapse beneath the weight of the snow on top of their roofs.

In an incredibly rare fit of despondence and desperation, Ialu choked down all pride and sought out the wisest and eldest amongst his tribe. He asked them for council and wisdom, and all were in agreement that this was the work of a god. It was the solution that they disagreed with: some believed in something that they called the Celestial Above and begged Ialu to intercede with It on behalf of the tribe. Others claimed that the springs with water that healed and reinvigorated men went deep into the earth, and that an even greater god existed as the Earthly Below, perhaps willing to help the tribe in their plight. Ialu ignored the council from both sides and declared that both gods were equally inferior and unworthy of worship, unable to help. For deep within him, ebbing from his brain and heart, whispered by every muscle, tendon, and ligament, Ialu knew that there was only one god worthy of worship: the Mighty One. Shouting prayers to the sky or talking into magical pools would not satisfy the Mighty One. No, for that Ialu needed to prove his power, he needed to show that the Strong Tribe were indeed worthy of their name.

He said this and knew this not from his own reasoning, but because his inner urges had returned once more. His intuition told him what he had to do: gather his greatest hunters and proudly stride out into the snowy plains, fearless in the face of whatever adversary the Mighty One deigned to send. Then, they would have to vanquish the adversary to show their might, or else the cold would kill them all.

And so it was. Just as suddenly as he had become reasonable and started listening, he became arrogant and sure that his way was the only one. No pathetic hunting party strode out of the village. It was a warband that left, thirty of the best hunters, all garbed in as much fur clothing as they could possibly wear. Ialu was in the lead, though he wore no furs: rather, he walked out naked save for a loincloth, letting the frigid winds try as they might to flay the flesh off his bones and the merciless snows to fall upon his bare chest. The Mighty One would not allow him to simply fall over and freeze, Ialu reasoned. By going out in such scant clothing, he would force the Mighty One to waste no time sending an adversary, lest his foremost follower die without so much as a fighting chance. Or at least that was what Ialu tried to explain to himself and the skeptical tribesmen, who thought that this was suicide. In reality, it was his urges, the intuition of his commanding him to wear no furs without offering any explanation as to why. He could not ask it why like the tribesmen could ask him. Perhaps that was the reason he hated the word so much.

In any case, Ialu's reasoning proved itself right, rather by its own merits or by serendipity. They only fought for the snow for a short time before they heard their foe's mighty roar. Instantly every one of the hunters froze, scared out of their wits for having recognized that sound. A great beating sound resonated through the air, like thunder. The sounds of their foe's wings. Suddenly, the blizzard was parted by a powerful gust of wind to reveal their foe in all its splendor: a massive dragon, scales black and muscled body so strong that it could fly through this blizzard. The dragon, its intention peaceful towards humans, merely passed over them. There was a collective sigh of relief amongst the hunters; they had been quivering in fear.

But Ialu would not have it: this was his tribe's only chance, and it would not slip away so easily. First he threw his club and spear to the side; he needed his hands free. Then, without hesitation, he raised a hand and reach out with the Wi, sensing the dragon's innards and applying great forces haphazardly, hoping to inflict grievous damage but in reality merely causing a few minor hemorrhages. The dragon was too far, too fast, and its anatomy too strange for Ialu to so easily kill it. The dragon let out a roar of pain, and circled back to find the source.

"SHOOT IT!" bellowed Ialu's voice, terrifying in his mixture of rage, desperation, and bloodlust.

All reluctance and fear banished the instant that their chieftain spoke, the hunters reached out with the Wi, finding jagged stones buried deep beneath snow, frost, and even dirt. Using their telekinesis, they ripped these stones out from below and hurled them upwards, pelting the dragon as it flew over them once more. The beast wheeled around in the sky, having located the source of its pain.

With a horrific sound so deafening that it made thunder itself sound like a solemn whisper, the dragon breathed a wave of fire. Ialu and at least three hunters were consumed in the inferno, bathed in the dragon's burning breath. The wave of heat instantly washed over all others nearby, destroying the cold's tingling and forcing them to sweat despite the blizzard and all. Anybody remotely close was singed, many having to jump into the snow to snuff out fires on their fur clothing. The noxious odors of brimstone and charred flesh was so overpowering that it made some gag.

When the dragon passed over and the flames vanished, the scene was one that none of them would ever forget. The snow and frost in the fire's path was gone, having been instantly melted and vaporized. The frozen grass below had been converted to black ash. Almost nothing remained of the hunters, the heat having boiled their bodies and causing them to burst like smashed fruit, their melted flesh burning with the ash and smoke billowing away. Their blackened skeletons were strewn everywhere in pieces, the heat having been enough to cause bones to crack and explode.

In the middle of that wake of utter destruction was Ialu. His loincloth was incinerated and the breath's force had buffeted him back a bit, yet he was otherwise fine. The front of his body that had faced the flames appeared pink like a maiden's rosy cheeks, as if the dragon's fire had been like a mild sunburn. His backside was utterly unmarred. As the dragon circled back around to finish off the rest of the worms that had dared to challenge its might, it saw Ialu, and was even more bewildered that the hunters. Claws outstretched, the dragon dived down for Ialu like an osprey for a fish. If fire did not melt away this insolent creature, the dragon's teeth and claws would rip it asunder!

...yet the dragon never made it to Ialu, for the hero had clenched both his fists together and summoned the Wi, using all his might to grip the beast's wings and fold them to its back. Struggling yet unable to even spread its wings, much less flap them, the dragon plummeted to the ground like a stone. Swiftly moving to snatch up his spear from where he had dropped it before hemorrhaging the beast, he charged the dragon while howling like a madman. The other hunters, having regained their bearings, strained with all their might to restrain the dragon and prevent it from retreating. The beast was strong and it fought back, but the some twenty warriors managed to flip it over and onto its back.

With a great kick Ialu leaped into the air once he neared the pinned beast, gracefully flying with his spear outstretched the beak of some swan. What followed was not so beautiful or graceful, as he landed on the beast's belly and drove his spear's point through a gap between two scales. The shaft and head having dug themselves at last a hand's length into the dragon's flesh, the mighty thing let out a piercing shriek of pain. Utter hatred and very real fear now evident in its eyes, the dragon finally managed to break the Wi's hold over itself. 

Ialu, taken aback, suddenly found himself snatched up by a great claw, the razor talons digging into him and managing to draw some blood, a rare feat for any of Ialu's foes. The tribesmen hurled their spears at it like javelins. It shrieked once again as one or two pierced its flesh, yet the majority were harmlessly deflected by its adamant hide and scales. Righting itself on its feet once again, Ialu suddenly found himself crushed beneath the dragon's entire weight, grasped in a claw that the monster was standing upon. The sensation was fortunately short lived, as the dragon abruptly took flight once more, seemingly in retreat.

The hunters tried to save him by pulling the dragon out of the sky, but they were exhausted and adrenaline made the beast too strong. The dragon spiraled up into the sky. On arm free, Ialu pounded it with his fist, transferring enough force to knock down a small tree. While the dragon's bones were far too hard to be broken and its hide absorbed the brunt of the blow, such a move did let the infuriated thing know that its prey was somehow still alive, unbroken and still fighting back. This one seemed to be a fighter, unwilling to ever yield, but it could still be broken, in a sense. The dragon's grip on Ialu was suddenly gone, and he found himself tumbling through the air, down onto the ground that was at least a mile below. The snowy landscape below loomed larger. The blizzard and the air that he fell through kissed his face. This was a fall that would make a mortal explode and most likely even shatter a hero. Fortunately for Ialu, he landed soft as a feather. His tribesmen had mustered the strength to use their telekinesis to slow his descent for the last few moments.

Slowly, the battered chieftain rose back to his feet. They prepared to walk back in shame, having come so close to victory yet in the end served only cold an defeat. That was, until Ialu spoke once more, "After the dragon! We'll catch the coward yet!"

His spear still stuck in the beast, Ialu found his club and took chase after the dragon. With raucous laughter and joy once more (despite the ongoing blizzard and their casualties) the hunters followed suit. They watched as the dragon's body disappeared into the clouds above, out of sight. Yet the wounded thing would surely be unable to go far, at least not without rest. So the hunters ran in the direction it had fled, towards a mountain that was barely visible in the distance. It was there that they knew the beast would be found.

Relentlessly, the hunters ran for hours without rest for drink, food, or even to catch their breath. At last, through ice and snow, they made their way over the rugged foothills and to the base of the mountain. Some 'base' it was, more like a bleak precipice, a looming cliff. Dejected, some of the hunters now wanted to return home. Some off the more optimistic ones were in favor of skirting the mountain to look for a better way up.

Knowing that failure was not an option for the Strong tribe and that they did not have the time to spend half a week looking for a better way, Ialu simply told them to remain where they were. Then, he began to scale the mountain. The climb was easy, for although neither Ialu nor any of his tribe has ever climbed such a thing, his incessant dreams had taught him well enough. Like some sort of monkey or lizard Ialu ascended the vertical stone face, disappearing over the edge hundreds of feet above. A few hours later, when he reached the peak, the hunters below heard the dragon's roar resounding from above, recoiling upon the flat, and finally reaching their ears. It was a battle for the ages, and surely even the folk back in the village would be hearing it unfold!

When Ialu had came within sight of the peak and seen the dragon nestled on a small perch near the top, conscious yet in a daze as it licked its wounds, he had crept around to the other side of the mount. The ferocious winds up here more than enough to hide his scent and drown out any noise that he made, Ialu had climbed to the very top of the summit, a jagged point. On one side of this point was a drop of perhaps twenty feet, right above the dragon. Clutching his club tightly, the hero jumped, landing on the beast's neck. With a savage yell he slammed the club down on the crown of its head with all the force that he could muster, once, twice, thrice, reducing the wooden thing to splinters.

It was not enough. As the beast suddenly shook itself awake and began to move, Ialu began punching its head with his bare hands. Though to him it appeared that his blows were to no avail, in reality he had inflicted a great deal of pain upon the already woozy lizard. The dragon, standing up yet having failed to shake off its assailant, spread its wings and prepared to take flight. Ialu looked backwards from where he clutched onto the beast's neck, spotting the point where the wings were attached to its body. With his special form of Wi, he ripped tendons and ligaments. He shattered the joint and the bone, dislocating the entire right wing. Crippled by pain and internal bleeding, as the dragon dove off the cliff it began to flail its good wing, barely managing to glide down. Ialu used telekinesis to pick up a large boulder and slam it into the dragon's flank. The wind knocked out of the beast, the two tumbled back down and rolled down the mountain some ways.

It turned its head towards Ialu, opened its great gaping maw, and prepared to bellow out a flame that would melt the mountain's face. But Ialu was already upon the black dragon. Instinctively, his hand moved his lightning into its mouth, his fingers wrapping themselves around one of the beast's huge, dagger-like razors that were teeth. With a heave he ripped the tooth loose, and clutching the slippery thing like a knife, he then jabbed its point into the pupil of the dragon's eye. The dragon's mouth belched out only a cloud of smoke before the whole monster erupted into a bloodcurdling cry, unable to even breathe fire at this point. Some might have felt sympathy for the thing, had they been watching; however, Ialu's mind was in the fight. His only focus was on felling this beast, surviving this encounter. 

Without mercy and without another thought, he jumped onto the beast's head and plunged the dagger through the beast's already bloody eye, far deeper this time. Leaning in with all his might to plunge it further in, he did not full the tooth back out until his elbow was within the beast's eye. Having went through the eye and brain and almost to the other side of its skull, he had delivered a fatal blow. With a great shudder, the dragon died. Ialu, still breathing hard, looked up to the sky to thank the mighty one. It seemed as if the sky was getting farther away by the second, though. That was odd. With a start, Ialu realized that this was because he and the dragon's corpse were now rapidly sliding down the mountain's icy face, towards the cliff that he had climbed. With a yell, Ialu jumped off the dragon barely in time to grip the icy edge of the cliff. His body dangling off, exhausted, he was barely able to summon the strength to pull himself back up.

He was not done yet. After a few minutes' rest, he slowly, carefully, began to climb back down the cliff face. He heard faint cries from below, urging him to let go. He ignored those hallucinations, those vestiges of weakness hiding somewhere in his body...until he recognized the voices as those hunters that had stayed back. He released his grip, and his body began to soar down. It was a free feeling. Gently, he landed upon a heap of snow, his descent slowed once more by telekinesis. There was a wild cheer that went out as his tribesmen looked back and forth. Back and forth from the dragon's still corpse that had tumbled off the edge, and their exhausted leader, collapsed in a heap of snow yet somehow still alive.

[hider=Summary]
-Ialu and the Strong Tribe (mostly Ialu this time) killed a dragon as a demonstration of their strength to the Mighty One[/hider]
[hider=Khookie Jar]
19 earned from last post
4 left over from before
23 total
16 spent to level up to 7 (level 6 was given for free)
7 cookies left
[/hider]