Far at the bottom of the world, beneath all the other shards, is where we find Pyre.
Often bathed in darkness, the tundras and steppes of Pyre are lit by the glow of the Shard’s volcanic mountain ranges, which can frequently result in rivers of magma coursing through the landscape. It is not a hospitable place. The Pyroi themselves are a sight to behold: eight feet tall, ruddy skinned and broad shouldered, they make fearsome warriors and charismatic negotiators and ambassadors. Much of Pyroi culture is centered around temple structures built at the base of the volcanos, while other communities live a nomadic lifestyle hunting enormous beasts out on the open savannah.
And it is here, among these brutal and unforgiving extremes, that the folk revere the Virtue of Might above all.
MIGHT. The engine that drives the body. The force of that body. Might is the abject effect of pure power and strength. The killing blow, the unstoppable force, the capacity to persist under vile circumstances, it is brute strength and simple persistence. Muscle and mountains, iron and blood. The virtue of war and the hunting of titanic beasts. A fist squeezing Red fire into intention.
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