Iziar is a Splinterlands character.

Splinterlands is an NFT Trading Card Game based in the world of Praetoria.

Lore:

Iziar is the last of the Blesog, a faction of storm giants that hail from the peaks of the Agniavas. It has been a decade since her beloved fell, stricken by time, and now his bones lie beneath the cold, crystalline ground of one of the range's tallest peaks. But before he passed on, he left Iziar with a gift, the seed of new life. She holds this keepsake deep inside her, teaching and preparing her unborn children for the day when she passes on and they must find their own way in the world.

Iziar remains isolated within the mountains, and few have laid eyes upon her. She spends most days toying with the elements, mixing combinations of the ruinous powers of nature and delighting in their raw elemental displays. It is said that nobody can throw lightning quite like a storm giant, and the swirling tornadoes they conjure with a simple twirl of their finger can level a city.

It is written in the prophecies of the Blesog that should the life of the land ever be threatened, then the storm giants will leave their peaks above the clouds and descend into the highlands and lowlands, bringing the raw, elemental power of the tempests with them… and woe to those who stand in their way.

Cully dug at the hard earth with his hoe, a thin bead of sweat following the contours of his temple and cheek and disappearing into his wintery beard. “This ground is as hard as ice.”

Annie folded her arms and shook her head. “Course it is. Autumn's here, and winter won't be far behind her. Moaning won't plant the beets though, Cully Daw, so you best get on with it.”

As he struck the ground with his hoe, the entire plateau trembled. He stood up straight, eyes wide. “What in Khymia's name was that?”

The ox snorted and pulled at its harness. The plow behind it jolted forward as another thunderous boom rolled across the sky. Annie stared into the clouds. “I don't know, but I don't like it.”

The fluffy white clouds swirled and churned around the upper reaches of the mountain range that bordered the plains where Cully's fields stretched. Moments later a pair of massive, sandalled feet appeared in the mist, then a pair of legs, a torso and arms, and, at last, the female face of a giant larger than any Cully had ever seen. The ground shook as she strode down the mountainside and across the plains toward where they worked, long hair blowing in the wind and crackles of lightning coursing over her hands.

He and Annie stood frozen in slack-jawed awe as the giant approached. She was over four times Cully's height, and her scale armor was completely foreign to him. She stopped before them, and when she spoke, her voice rolled like thunder.

“Where is this Chaos Legion that dares to defile these lands?”

Cully licked his lips and pointed a shaky finger down the valley, toward the southwest, where New Balfair was just about visible near the horizon. “South–uh, south of here…p-pretty much anywhere you go in that direction, you'll find them.”

The giant narrowed her eyes and nodded once. “I've heard of the mayhem they've caused. Time to put a stop to it.” The giant marched away in the direction Cully had pointed, the ground shaking with each of her steps.

“Be careful!” Cully called after her. “They're a dangerous breed, the Chaos Legion. Don't trust them.”

“When I'm done with them, finding Praetorian trust will be the least of their worries.”

Iziar - SDXL - V1