A voice calls to you in the rustle of leaves. The echo in a darkened hollow. Your name is on the breath of the world. Hear it now. While others talk ceaselessly, you listen. Not to the chatter of society, or the empty rules and procedures of civilization. You have always been drawn to the wild, the untamed. The trappings of culture hold no interest for you, nor the false borders and boundaries it provides. Perhaps you hear another call: the words of the land itself. It speaks of desecration and decay, of birth and rebirth. It asks for help, and, in turn, offers it. It calls for a protector and longs to protect under its great canopy.
There are no laws. Natural rule is a lie. The world heeds a higher law. Whether you know it or not, you have been called to tend that deeper balance, The Great Chaos of the verdant world.
This land is as beautiful as it is wild and dangerous, powerful. But still, it needs caretakers, seers, sentinel— those who will take up the mantle, to cut away the blight and nurture the fragile seeds of beauty. Regardless of the ramifications to the unnatural world. You will bring shade where brightest, and light where darkest, for now you know this land has endured longer than memory and deeper than rational thought. And it will continue to endure under your care. For that is your calling. Your love for nature and awareness of a deeper, more verdant truth in the world will lead you to ancient paths of knowledge, and skills to defend it. Lay your hands in the soil and borrow powerful magic, magic that calls on the chaotic source of all magic. You will be granted gifts to destroy and to repair. Under your judgment. Free of law. Only The Great Chaos matters now.
As an agent of the land, your obligation is to seek out the patterns of decay and life reaching for the sky, feel where change is required, and take action.
“The land endures. The land, and you, are Balimora.”