A lone figure steps to the edge of the battered cliff, her gown fluttering in the crisp breeze. She spreads her arms wide to the sky above, and begins a low chant. Slowly, the chant becomes louder, her voice echoing against the rocks. As the chant drowns out the sound of the crashing waves below, storm clouds roll in from the ocean and thicken in the sky overhead. The winds heed her call, blowing across the jagged shoreline and churning the sea beneath her.

Ever faster she chants, each verse building on the last. She can feel the charge in the air around her, growing stronger with each passing second, until at last it can no longer be caged. She throws her head back and shouts the final incantation, bending the raw power to her will. White fire leaps from her fingertips to the sky, infusing the storm with her power. Instantly the storm responds, splitting the sky with light and sound as a bolt of lightning rips through the air to the water below.

She is the Storm Caller.
The wind is her breath, the rain her tears.
Thunder is her voice, the lightning her fury.
Of all the forces of nature, none can compare to the tempest within her own heart.