#ferinehuntress
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There were many plans that Warwick had made in his head prior to escape. The first of which had been to get his revenge of Silco. To hell with Singed’s attempts to get him to play nice, to be a fucking lapdog. No he was going to kill the man who was really responsible for making him a monster. However, that mission got tossed to the side when he found her. Vi.
His daughter had grown so much over the last few years since his ‘death.’ But she was alone and now more than ever, the streets of zaun were not safe. So he put his vendetta aside and vowed to follow her wherever she went, to make sure she was always protected. He would be her guardian angel in monstrous form. It didn’t matter if she was in piltover or zaun, he would always be there.
So the hound of zaun was watching her when noticed a pair of hounds coming for her. It was clear that Silco had sent them after her. Would have sent him, too, if he hadn't escaped. Warwick growled as they were getting too close to her now and he knew if he didn't intervene it would get worse. One of them made the mistake of hurting her even. He saw red.
He charged at them then, getting between her and them, slashing at them with his long claws. "Stay behind me." He growled, Right now he didn't even care if he was scaring Vi, he was just protecting her as he tore into one of them. In his preoccupied state, one of them slip past him and went straight for Vi. "Vi watched out."
#;zaun gave me claws before you did | warwick;#ferinehuntress#{ the guardian in the shadows; thread }#{ warwick and vi thread }
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So much had happened to Isobel leading up to this point. At first she was with her people in the Last Light inn. They were celebrating a battle won against the shadow creatures that plagued the lands. One battle won amongst many in this way against the corruption of her father and the absolute. Against the corruption that ran through her veins. The peace however, had only been temporary just like the other times. The only thing keeping them safe was Isobel's protection circle, it kept their plot of land surrounding the inn safe and untouched by corruption.
Isobel, in her worry for their safety in her absence had taught one of the others, her protege, how to uphold the circle. This was because Isobel knew that she knew she wasn't, at any time, truly safe from her father. Several times over her father had tried to orchestrate her capture, only for it to end in failure. Unfortunately his latest attempt had succeeded as he'd cleverly sent someone in to infiltrate the Inn, Marcus. They had grown to trust him, he'd done so much for their cause. This is what made his betrayal sting that much more when she woke up to find herself bound, her father in front of her and Marcus at his side.
"How could you do this? To your own daughter?" Isobel screamed at Ketheric as she was forcefully held down by magic alone. Tainted, corrupt, and disgusting magic that practically burned her wrists. There was heartbreak too, in knowing that Ketheric was different from the man he used to be. Before he was a slave to Myrkul's will and influence. 'You act that this is a bad thing, but soon you'll see that I only want what's best for you, my Isobel.' The hand that brushed her cheek was decievingly soft, as fake as the smile on his face. 'This is a blessing, a freedom you've never had before. You've been blinded by the moon maidens will, and I'll open your eyes.' Words were being chanted behind her. Her eyes had widened at the words, knowing what they were doing now. She silently prayed to the moon maiden to protect her...
Protection that didn't seem to come now as she stood in her father's presence, completely under Myrkul's thrall. The Isobel that stood there was not the same Isobel that had been brought there. This was a darker Isobel, a free Isobel. She stood beside him as the party, lead by Tav, stumbled in. No doubt here to free their captive held down by strong magic, magic she had help conjure too. It was impossible for Aylin to break without interference. 'Daughter, I'll take care of these pests but I need you to guard our captive. Keep them from coming near her.' Under the spell, she merely grinned in response. "As you wish father, I will make sure no one touches the night song."
As Isobel stood in front of the aasimar, she felt the briefest bit of connection to her. A link that Myrkul did their best to block out, which up until now had worked. It seemed being so close appeared to wake up a small part of her, one she held down. When she heard the hands tighten she suspected that Aylin had awoken, yet did not take her eyes off the path in front of her. "I wouldn't resist if I were you. You can't break that magic. Just accept your fate." The words came out cold and cruel, as if she didn't feel the slightest bit of warmth deep in her heart. So long as the assimar stayed chained, her father would stay untouchable. "I'd hate to put you back to sleep or worse."
Noting one of the adventuring party advancing forward, she cast glyph of warding. If they got any closer the spell would activate they would be hit with massive cold damage. "Stay away or die." Gods she felt so powerful in this moment. @ferinehuntress
#ferinehuntress#;let me be your guide and i'll show you the light | Isobel;#{ Breaking the bindings of corruption; thread }#{ Isobel and Aylin thread }
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Clockwork Jungle ;; Thread
Starter for @ferinehuntress - starter call
Perhaps the first thing her keen eyes noticed were... How opulent everything looked. How... Fake.
Xayah roamed the streets of Piltover, sheepishly scanning the area from the outskirts, doing recon is something one ought to do when exploring any (possible) enemy territory. Although without many trees and the apparent lack of great hiding spaces it was somewhat difficult to navigate without being perceived or actively stared down by many of the inhabitants with very much fake outfits. If there was one thing she could never understand was human's adversion towards nature in their biggest cities. Even Ionian's biggest cities were not as deserted as this one. No. Piltover was special.
It was hard to ignore the stench of an... odd magic in the air. It was... New⸻ but ancient. Filled with memories, but so very distant to hear any of its whispers. It felt almost nostalgic... A feeling that was not her own. Although it was nothing she had seen or felt before, she could notice that there was something about the city that was different from others she had been on in the past. Piltover did not seem to despise or restrain magic, but it seemed to harness it in a way that she could not comprehend. A red flag, in the past. She had only heard of stories of this land from its birth centuries ago.
So it was only natural that, when the opportunity struck . . .
WHAM.
A bang and a creak of metal filled a seemingly empty alley, along with the violet raven bending the metal and cutting through the rust to open up the carcass of what she only saw an awkward container. It reeked of magic, which she had a hard time understanding. Why would something like this require magic? It had wheels to transport things, that much she could comprehend. But it seemed silly for humans to attempt and put magic just about on anything. It was almost hilarious how little they knew about magic. True magic, anyways.
"HEY . YOU ! WHAT ARE YOU⸻" the nobleman paused at the sight. " GUARDS ! GUARDS⸻ "
Feathers perked up at the sound of a male voice, clearly threatening. But he was only met with a half-disinterested side-eye from the lhotlan as she resumed her investigation. He seemed harmless- As much as humans with so much gold in their tunics loved to boast their power.
It... was slightly worse when five or six more armored ones showed up.
" Shit . " A silent curse as Xayah instinctively pushed out quills onto the gaps of her fingers, ready to defend herself. " Look , if this is about your little toy- You should have taken care of it better in the first pla⸻ "
They did not seem to hesitate much. The magic from her fingers alerted them, it seemed. The place was narrow⸻ there were little advantages for her out of her comfort zone. For fucks sake, can she not spend one day without humans giving her troubles? How was she supposed to know they would make a big fuss about a pile of rusty metal ? Quills were thrown aimed at their legs, to immobilize. And she dashed out the opposite path .
" Assholes . "
Out onto the main streets, she bumped and pushed through the crowds, each gaze earning her more attention- each time feeling chased by more. The streets were unforgiving, unfamiliar- the corners led to seemingly nowhere or back to the main roads. A maze made of metal and gold- an awful one at that. So she ran- and ran- and ran .
A turn to the left on an alley- followed by a short impulse with her wings up to a short building- only to end up being chased back down towards the main street and towards the bridges. And just when she thought she was getting away, for a split second she turned back to see- only to crash against a body in front of her with enough force to tumble them both onto the concrete ground. A familiar scent- albeit diluted, of a species not particularly from these lands . . .
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@ferinehuntress 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 :: ❝ unexpected guest = 𝐚𝐡𝐫𝐢 ❞
It was a late, cold night in Zaun. The skies were bitter with an oncoming storm, and the streets were filled with umbrellas and hoods. He had caught the beginnings of the drizzle outside, stepping into the Last Drop without a word to Thieram behind the bar. He was too tired to deal with his nervous stammer, today. He headed directly down into the residence below.
After a long and arduous day, he had expected to be able to come back to his private quarters, enter his bedroom, and simply fall against the bed. Perhaps fight off the nightmares for the night. That was not what happened. As soon as he cracked the door to his bedroom open, he spotted the tails slumped over the edge of the bed. Pushing the door open wider, he took in the sight of her nimble and soft frame resting against the surface of his mattress.
Then he noticed the blood and the dirt as he stepped into the room. Something had happened, and it had left her in an injured, weakened state. It was hard to imagine who could have gotten the upper hand over her, with the amount of raw power she had at the tips of her claws. Had it been a lucky shot, or perhaps there was a larger monster out there to look out for.
A strange sense of protectiveness tugged at his tired mind, and he silently closed the door behind him. With measured and careful steps, he walked to the wash basin by the window, taking up a cloth and dipping it into the water. Once it was damp, he turned around and approached the side of the bed.
Very carefully, he set himself down on the edge of the bed, reaching out with the cloth and gently pressing against a cut on her brow. "... What happened..?" he asked the kumiho, voice flat and untainted by emotion.
#𓁿 through the lens ;; answer 𓁿#ferinehuntress#ooc :: leaving this open to be a thread if you'd like but no pressure
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RP: In The Tiger's Den
The metal ropes of the descending lift grated against the gears. Their teeth interlocked with low creaking noises and an ever-present rattle. The entire lift's drop could be felt passing through its walls, the floor and their bodies. Captain Campion had to admit that the feeling of stepping into an almost windowless, moving coffin would never get any easier, no matter how much the inventor claimed his lifts were safe and you could not get stuck with them.
Of course, the lift's usefulness was undeniable! Even though Campion did not bother looking up at the number display, showing the different floors, he could hear its rapid clicking as they were counted down. Stillwater Hold was a far larger prison than its already massive, fortress-like exterior let on. Not even the Captain knew all the floors, however, rumours said Clan Ferros had drilled into the very foundation of the mountain itself, designing each cell for maximum efficiency.
The vastness and depth of Stillwater Hold was not Captain Campion's concern. What was his concern, were the documents, he was holding in gloved hands. His one good eye thoughtfully scanned over them, lips pulled into a thin, mistrustful line. Those papers were for Inmate 516's release, signed by Councillor Kiramman herself. A bad idea if you had to ask Campion.
The injuries on his face had long since healed by now. However, the missing left eye and the large scarring, beginning at his temple, going across his cheek, partly his nose and down to his jawline spoke of just what a danger 516 presented. She had always been a difficulty, ever since her first escape attempt at the tender age of seventeen. Now that girl was a fully grown beast with a jaw-tight grip upon her entire floor. Which happened to be the floor, he was the Captain of!
Campion turned his head to properly get a look at the young Enforcer, who had brought in the release papers. It was a girl, roughly 516's age. She had long, shiny, dark blueish-black hair and a fine complexion with a thin nose, smooth, small lips and watchful, sparkling blue eyes. She wore the uniform of a patrol Enforcer as opposed to the heavier and more protective gear, the guards of Stillwater had to don themselves with. Her hands were holding onto a clipboard and she was idly fidgeting around with a small fountain pen, tapping it against the back of the board. Her expression was one of fierce determination and investigative curiosity. It reminded Campion of how he had been when he had first started out working on the force.
There was a soft ding as the lift came to a standstill. Above their heads, the number forty was displayed. The Captain exhaled the air with a low huff, stealing his features. His hand rested upon his baton. He had no intention of actually injuring 516, especially if she were to be released. The Chief had sent him to keep the peace, which for Campion meant mostly making sure 516 did not immediately take off - or worse, tried to injure the younger Enforcer. As much as the Enforcers liked to test the prison guard rookies by daring them to get close to 516's cell, these dares had not always ended pretty. Campion still remembered how one Enforcer had to get his fingers sewn back on in the infirmary.
The lift door opened and the two Enforcers stepped into the corridor. Captain Campion looked at the young woman as he said: "I hope you know what you are doing, Miss Kiramman. 516 is one of the least cooperative and volatile inmates, Stillwater has ever seen."
The days in Stillwater Hold tended to blend together. The rhythm dictated by the prison guards gave every day a sense of sameness. Times, where a day stuck out and burned itself into Pink's memory were rare, and even then those events hardly were pretty. It usually meant that she had crossed a line yet again with the Captain or worst of all the Chief warden. This normally meant a little "chat" with her, as Chief liked to call it. That or the hole. Neither of the options was very encouraging.
After Pink had learned of the fact that Lock had been brought to Stillwater and she had struck at his jaw - he worked for Silco; he was an ENEMY! -, Pink had expected the day to play out like it always did after such instances: With the infirmary tending to another wounded inmate and her getting the usual beating up from the guards for disrupting the flow of the prison or misplaced conduct or whatever lukewarm excuse they came up with so they could lay hands on her.
What Pink hadn't expected was some rookie Enforcer to come and interrogate her! The nerve of that little blueblood. Didn't she know it was pointless to ask Pink questions? The Beast of Stillwater never cooperated with the prison guards, even those under its payroll! And then that Enforcer had dared to bait her with 'evidence' from a crime scene! Pictures in a style, which looked suspiciously similar to the drawing style of her little sister, Powder.
Pink could have kicked herself for having fallen for such blatant baiting! Nothing on her in the prison record, my ass! It was remarkable how much the guards had learned of her in the years, they had spent together. They even knew she was looking for Powder. No doubt, those bastards had told that rookie about Pow-Pow's style to play with her emotions.
And she had fallen for the bait like an inexperienced sumpsnide! How empty-headed was she?! It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. There was no way that Pow-Pow had left those calling cards on crime scenes! Powder was not a criminal. Unless... What if those were not calling cards? At least not in the way things worked in the criminal underworld. What if this was a call for help? What if Powder was crying out for her? And she, ignorant brute that she was, had sent the one person with the bloody lead away!
"Aaaaaahhhh!", roared Pink and pounded a fist into the wall, "FUCK!" Her breath heaved and her muscles trembled. Over the rushing blood in her ears, the woman could hear the characteristic step call of Enforcer boots. Right. It was that time.
Inspecting her bruised and blood-splattered knuckles, Pink's breath left her lips in a soft pant. Her expression hardened and her fists tightened. However, she then lowered her hands, uncurled her fingers and while staring at the wall, not caring to meet the Enforcer's eyes - she knew it was Campion; it had to be -, Pink spoke: "Whatever it is, just get on with it. I am not in the mood for games tonight."
Starter for @ferinehuntress.
#ferinehuntress#rp: in the tigers den#im willing to fight for it: vi interaction#im an excellent shot: caitlyn kiramman#Default Verse[Vi]#things changed since you left: queue
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@ferinehuntress
She had come to Ionia in a diplomatic trip, as a body guard to one of the ones in charge of dealing with other nations since they thought having a magical one in a land where magic roamed free, and had been excused to spend time as she saw fit while the political stuff happened. That was far from her idea of how a bodyguard was supposed to work, but free time for herself was not something she would complain about.
Shyvana looked at the marks on the grass. Hunting seemed like a good thing to pass time and at the time she was following what seemed to be a dear. Due to her size, she had decided to follow the tracks on her humanoid form, as to avoid detection and make the whole process easier. There were a variety of scents in the air, from the plants to the deer she was tracking to even what seemed to be a single solitary fox.
#ferinehuntress#the queue of demacia will fall#thourgh of having her meet Ahri :3#two inique beings would make interesting friends
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" He's....really not. All he talks about is blood, blood, I want to eat your blood! So boring. What I wouldn't give to rip him to shreds just to shut him up. " Her voice deepened near the end of her statement. A spark of her Hunger and anger shows through even without the pillory being broken.
Clearing her throat she'd sigh and roll her eyes dramatically. " I still don't know what people mean by Vastaya. Aren't you all just people? If humans can be with Vastaya, why are they not both with each other? If they're... compatible are they really that different to need different titles like that? "
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🍒 + ferinehuntress
@ferinehuntress
Panda, ILY <3. I adore all our threads and am so lucky and happy to get to write with such a talented writer. I always enjoy reading your replies to our threads, and even replies to others' threads when they come across my dash. You breathe so much life into your muses, especially your Caitlyn. So well-written and well-developed. And I look forward to getting to know your portrayal of Vi as well. Whenever I see one of your headcanons, I have to read it. Or at least skim it, because they're always interesting. So go follow Panda everyone, if you're not already. And Panda? Keep up the good work, because you're amazing <3
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Lark was glancing around at the shops, she slowed to a stop as a weapon caught her eye. She beckoned Karlach over. The battle axe was large and well crafted.
❝ What do you think, Karlach? It would suit you. ❞ She said as she motioned to the weapon, her eyes surveying every detail of it.
She began to rummage through her pack to locate her coin purse.
@ferinehuntress liked for a starter.
#ferinehuntress#. the forgotten realms ( baldurs gate III )#. stories fade into legends and myths ( thread )
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This post contains very heavy angst, so read with caution. At the lowest point in her life, Taliyah has an unlikely encounter, deep in the desert. Closed starter for Morgana (@ferinehuntress)
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 the way outsiders saw it, the way which she had condemned and fiercely opposed since she was a child; nothingness. She was an outsider now, wasn't she, having deserted her homeland and family in her lofty, selfish fanaticism over self-discovery and learning. Her power, her curse, like a dark force that beguiled her into a pact and sent her on a fool's errand. The arrogance of her, thinking she could leave and return.
I was only a child, she tried to argue against herself. A child without wisdom, without eyes that could see time and distance. She had feared her power and so had her tribe. I had to learn to control it, she reminded herself, and it was like salt on the open wound of her regret. That need for control had festered into an obsession and claimed her, dragged her happily away from her home and family, ripped her roots from the earth, not sparing a second thought.
This wound of regret was ripped and raked open the moment she comprehended the view of her tribe's former pastures, claimed by the dry and lifeless dunes. That wound deepened as she saw the restored Sun Disc and the sea of slaves gathering beneath it. It reached her heart as she saw familiar faces from neighboring tribes among them. In that instant, she felt for the first time the erosion of her foundations; a home that became only a memory.
All this time, she had done what she had done for tribe, for family, to return and be useful and whole. To show she had matured into a perfect fruit from the tree they had lovingly nursed. She had traveled and learnt so she would become wise, a pride and prize for her family.
There came her ultimate lesson then, the keepsake of her long journey from unlearned to learned; she understood now that it had been no service she had done her family, but a betrayal, leaving them to face hardships in her absence, without her power. That was what finally split her heart in two, in a wound that she could not live to bear; she could have helped them and saved them, preserved them.
Instead, there was nothingness. She understood now why outsiders saw the desert and dunes as the landscape of death. Buried in the sands were her tribe's songs, their language, their lessons, their goats, their tapestries and goatwool threads. This was a graveyard of gold and sapphire. Her heart was dead.
She drudged aimlessly among the dunes, billowing and crying and throwing up and screaming like a madwoman. She was a husk abandoned by spirit and sense. Not a little sparrow, but a harbinger, a vulture. As her sanity crumbled, so did reality; she saw purple flames lick the sand and in long rivulets slither over the dunes like great serpents, like guides on this final and cursed stretch. She followed, certain they would lead her to the land beyond, back to nothingness, where there was no more pain.
That moment was not far, now. She could already see the black speck that slowly grew in the hot blue sky, like a drop of ink, like many vultures with great wings soaring closer, coming for her. Great Weaver, she prayed, apologized, cursed. Let my thread come free and unravel from the tapestry.
She collapsed, hallowed out, withered, dried up. The purple flames danced and licked around her, like a lull, burning no more than the sand. It was her bed, her ash, and the black wings would blanket her and take her away.
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Jinx was waiting in the shadows, glancing down at the scene that she had set. Everyone was here, but in order for the party to truly start, Vi would have to wake up. The loose cannon was finding it hard, the waiting part. Vi was taking far too long to wake up for Jinx's liking. And she was even more impatient now after she filled with shimmer. She briefly glanced over at Silco, who was already stirring but did not seem worried. He knew the position he was in.
This shouldn't have turned out how it did, him bound to the chair. But he had the sense to know that even now he was treated with better care. That she would give him chance to speak soon enough. However, first priority was Vi and her reaction. Oh, how she was going to enjoy showing her beloved sister the party she had set up for her.
When there was movement coming from her chair, she grinned and began to make her way down the ruined stairway. "Well, look who finally decided to wake up," She said darkly, her voice was dripping with twisted excitement. Jinx could practically see the panic in her eyes, before she even knew what was laid out before her in the dark. "Took you long enough."
There was no light in the room, aside from the single candle in front of Vi. All her sister would see is what was immediately in front of her, everything else was pitch black. Jinx, however would see everything with her eyes. "I thought I'd buried this place, but I guess not." She made sure she was in VI's vision now. "You know, this place was my home for years, long before you found me after you left me."
Her grin faded though, when she noticed the uniform she was wearing again. It enraged her and it took everything in her not to tear it off of her. "How does it feel, knowing you have no idea where you are, pilitie? To be at my mercy" She used her quick movement to get behind her and whisper in her ear. "Let me show you."
Jinx created a flame and used it to illuminate the room. Now displaced in front of her was her perfectly set up table. Vi would see SIlco seeing across from her first, was staring down at her in a daze. There was an empty chair in which Vanders gauntlets hung over and beside him was a still unconscious Ekko. A gas mask positioned right in front of him.
"Now we can start the party."
#ferinehuntress#;all shimmered up | ic;#{ jinx/ekko and vi/caitlyn thread }#{ angst presents: welcome to the tea party }
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@ferinehuntress wanted a Nim!
"Honestly? I'm not certain if knowing who I am--- who I was--- makes things better or worse." They'd only just barely set foot into the city.... not even! Even reaching the outskirts had Bhaal, BHAAL!, commanding her to serve him by killing Orin. Her... kin. What even was she? Bhaalspawn, certainly... but with no mortal part to her. Carved from the flesh of murder, murder incarnate.
And then there was what had been learned at Gortash's coronation... The Absolute, the tadpoles, the brain... her fault. No... knowing most certainly made everything worse.
#the redeemed | main#ferinehuntress#i leave it open to aylin or karlach!#aylin could be neat cause child of a god#but the karlach angst of learning nimue was so close to gortash
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Ahh, got my heights mixed up crap! here's the right ones XD
📏 (ruler) + Karlach 6' 8''
📏 (ruler) + Aylin 6' 7''
Karlach & Gortash:
Aylin & Gortash:
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@ferinehuntress liked for a starter!
Tabitha lovingly tended to the fire as the shambling bodies of her spores navigated the treacherous darkness in search of kindling. From a distance Tabitha's camp looked like a safe haven carved into the land but it was no Last Light Inn. The warm glow of her campfire promised safety when a different sort of danger lingered within the light.
From the corner of her eye she could see the ghostly fingers of the darkness swirling about as they pressed against the protective glow of the camp fire. She had long since gotten accustomed to the Shadow-Cursed lands since she had found refuge within the darkness. Logically, Tabitha had no reason to come here. Such tainted land had nothing to offer but pain yet she was glad that circumstance had pushed her here. If it had not been for the way the rest of the world had closed in on her like a closing jaw, she would have never learned the things she had.
Honing her craft was something that was incredibly important to her, to be able to infest the bodies of others and bring them back was an important skill for one such as she. To see the way the darkness seeped into everything, even the dirt, had allowed Tabitha to refine her own magic. Tabitha could control even more of her zombies at a time, not only that but she could infect larger bodies. In the past Tabitha would have never dreamt of being able to infest a half-orc, let alone an ogre.
The crunch of dirt beneath boots shook Tabitha from her thoughts, her back straightening as she glanced around in genuine confusion. Sometimes those twisted by the curse happened across her camp, but the steady steps quickly put her thoughts at ease. The glimpse of a torch further eased her concerns.
Standing, Tabitha mentally summoned her spore zombies back to her camp before she called out, "hello?"
#ferinehuntress#; swallow stone and greet the dead (tabitha)#; verse (whisked away on the wings of the raven | tabitha act ii)
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Two Immortal Friends
The last time, Khaevis had travelled great distances, had been centuries ago when she had come off age herself and her own mother had chased her out of her territory. Khaevis had flown day and night, searched far and low until she found a territory suiting her own needs, far away from her mother's hunting grounds as attempting to best her would have been a foolish endeavour.
However, even then those long travels, Khaevis had done as a dragon, relying on her powerful wings to carry her around and her flaming breath to catch her food and defend herself against enemies. An adolescent dragon had few things to fear, outside of larger, more experienced dragons and their inexperience.
This kind of travel was unlike anything Khaevis had ever done before. Naturally, she could shape change. All dragons could. However, Khaevis had never done it for this long or regularly. Walking on two legs instead of four, not having access to her wings and having her tail shortened was hard to stomach. It felt insulting to her and uncomfortable like holding in a sneeze.
However, it was a necessary evil if she meant to find those, who had taken her daughters from her. At least the group of adventurers, she was travelling with, seemed alright. Even so, Khaevis was cautious as to not reveal her true identity. She had heard far too many tales of greedy adventurers, plundering dragon caves for their gold and slaying them for their blood, scales and horns.
The dragon did her best not to think about such things. Khaevis had just returned from a hunt in the woods. Ever since the last great battle, the Little Light Inn had been freed of its necessary protection through a barrier of moonlight. The bad shadows had left, which allowed Khaevis to hunt again. Good. The days guarding the camp as a Dragonborn had made her skin crawl.
Her muzzle and paws were coated in sticky blood and the gores of a deer, she had slain. Stepping to a nearby river just on the west side of camp, Khaevis knelt down on the brook and dunked her claws into the cool water. Splashing sounds made her turn her head and surprise flooded her senses.
She wasn't the only creature, who had chosen to take a bath in the cleansing current of the river. A tall, muscular woman with ivory pale skin, reminiscent of the silvery-blue hide of some fish in colour was standing in the waters. Her hair was a blur of white-blond in Khaevis' eyes. She could dimly make out the piercing blue eyes, which seemed focused on tending towards the large white wings. Their tips glowed just like the blue glow worms of her old cave did.
However, it was the smell of ancient rocks, freshly fallen snow and cold steel, which gave her away. Khaevis stepped closer, not caring that her muzzle was dripping gore. "Aylin?", she asked with a dark reverberating undertone to her voice, "Is that you, pretty bird?" The dragon's pupils trembled as they wandered over the fine, pattern-like scars, spreading across Dame Aylin's face and body. Her nostrils puffed out smoke and her chops pulled back in a low growl. "What has been done to you?!"
@ferinehuntress
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@ferinehuntress
Smoke and oil. That was the scent that seemed to perpetuate in her nose as she walked by the streets of Piltover. Sure, there were other things too but she knew that when she left the City of Proguess, that's what she would remember the most. She had been granded a little ´vacation´ to take care of some personal matters, a small curiosity that had been bothering her for a few years. Where had the mage that took care of her come from? There wasn´t much to go on except a name and a few fussy memories of him owning objetcs from Piltover. So there she was, on a wild goose chase to find something, anything about that name.
Of course she would need a detective to find out any information, reason why she was knocking on that door. Ana had traded her usual demancian armor for something more casual, civil looking and had her hair braided in a loose briad as she waited to speak with the detective. Were people of Piltover as distrustful of magical beings as demacians? She would find out soon enough.
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