Lily flies a Kite

Log Info

• Title: Lily flies a Kite
• Emitter: Cryosanthia
• Characters: Cryosanthia, Thurid, Un'eth, Imane
• Place: H03: Eldwyn Road
• Time: Saturday, November 14, 2020, 6:53 PM
• Summary: Cryosanthia is taking a break during her return to Mictlan, she is letting her Swiftclaw run around, and her foundling fly a kite. Thurid, a Jotun cleric of Angoron approaches, and they talk. The Swiftclaw turns out to be Un'eth, who joins in the discussin. Largely, it covers recent events in Alexandria: The Goblin Festival, the Airship Warship, the opening of Merkabah, the defeat of Endless Winter, the search for Shards of Animus, the demons in the city, and the infernals in the woods, as well as minor threats in goblintown and from kobolds. Imane arrives during this, and Cryo shares her maps with her also. The Dawn-Elf decides going into the woods alone at night might be a bad idea, and traves with the sith'makar to Wilderness Pointe while Thurid takes the Ferry to Alexandria.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* H03: Eldwyn Road *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The Eldwyn Road meanders continuously around hills, wilderness, and farmland, though it is occasionally broken by fingerlets from the great Tornmawr. At one point, the road crosses the Tornmawr itself, which takes place by use of a ferry.

Further east and past the ferry are the great Redridge Mountains. These mountains, which run mostly north and south, charge through the landscape, and even through the eastern end of the Lord's City of Alexandria.

Towards the south is the city, with its flags rising far above the walls. The fiery Rising Phoenix almost glows in the sunlight and airships may be seen both in flight and in dock, as they make use of a carefully sculpted section of the Redridge.

Towards the north, the landscape of rolling hills and farmland breaks into denser forest.

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Cryosanthia  6'9"     291 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.
Thurid       7'1"     249 Lb     Giantborn         Female    Bright-eyed, muscular, blond Giantborn woman.
Swiftclaw    11' 6"   643 Lb     Swiftclaw         Female    A black-scaled Swiftclaw with a white pattern along spine.
Dire Wolf    9'3"     525 Lb     Dire Wolf         Female    A large white-furred dire wolf.
Imane        5'6"     105 Lb     Dawn Elf          Female    A very pale Elf in black shiny leather.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

The road meanders, and meandering along it is a sith'makar. At least she was. It seems it time for a break. She has gotten off the road, and off her Swiftclaw. A much smaller lizard has gotten off her, the woman having some sort of backpack-saddle for her youngling to ride on. So it must have been quite a sight, lizard on a lizard on a lizard. Sadly they are all broken apart now.

The largest, the Swiftclaw, is gamboling about on a nearby hill eating rabbits and occasional pieces of thrown meat. The medium-sized, the sith'makar is standing and watching, assisting the smallest who is attempting to fly a kite. One is a reddish brown, one white, and the smallest a carnation pink colour.

At least two of the three seem bitey; they all might be.

Thurid is making her way down the same meandering road, long legs carrying her at a fair pace, though she appears unhurried. The Giantborn woman is dressed in her travelling gear, today, armored and sapular-clad, bearing the symbol of Angomor, and carrying her Maul in hand- almost as tall as she is, she uses the heavy implament almost like a walking staff. She spies the group of lizards in the distance, and approaches at that same pace. Upon dwaring near, she raises a hand in greeting, "Hail." she calls out in the trade tongue.

She waits to get a bit closer before continuing, so she doesn't need to shout, and addresses the Medium sized Lizard. "Energetic hatchlings. Are they yours?" she observes, and then wonders, with an easy smile, and leans the maul against her shoulder.

The woman looks over, her tail curls protectively in a wide arc around the kite-flyer and she shades her eyes. "Peace on your Nest. Yes, she is mine. The swiftclaw is on loan. Say hello to the nice jotun, Little Fang." Her tradespeech is excellent, no trace of sibilation or hesitation. She follows up with something, hissed in draconic.

"Peaasssss." The little pink youngling says, whipping around and starting towards Thurid before a tail blocks her way and nudges her back.

"Angoron?" The whitescale asks, "This one enjoys the drumming at The Mountain. It has been a comfort."

Thurid lets out a sudden laugh at the young sith's escape attempt, she curls her arm around the haft of the maul, and leans on it, the butt digging into the ground beneath, and she folds her muscular legs at the ankles resting casually to talk. "Peace to you, too, little one." she offers, before turning her gaze back towards Cryosanthia at the question.

A nod of her head, "Aye. I'm returning from a Mission, I've been away from the city for some seasons. What news, if you know it?" she asks then.

"Peaaaasss!" Little Fang hisses happily, her mouth wide open in a grin. One of her leading fangs is much smaller than the other. The word worked, so she's going to use it again.

"That's good, fly your kite some more, Ssassa has to talk." The whitescale crouches, pets her on the head and guides her behind her again. Straightening up, she gives the jotun a look, and exhales strongly. "Woaw. Well. Let this one think where to start."

She brushes at the front of her clothes. She's wearing leathers and mithril, it's relatively form fitting and includes a short cape, as well as gloves. The leather is scaled, and similar to her natural colours. "The Magic Plague ended several months ago, things have been returning to normal. A group calling themselves the Resurectionists have appeared, and are searching for fragments of the dead god, Animus. Charn, has sent a delegation to negotiate some new, unusual alliance. Infernal creatures have been appearing in the woods and beneath the city. A while back, the hobgoblins started building an airship warship for Blar. To aid in this, Merkabah, the crashed flying city, is open for explorers. Also, some unusual things have been happening in goblintown, but it may have been simply the autumn seasonal festivities."

The trip from Mictlan to Alexandria is not brief, and one can develop a hunger. Especially when one doesn't wish to be fed and wants to hunt. What vanished chasing a rabbit some minutes past no returns, dragging prey in its jaws. The buck is sizable, so some of the heavier and/or more tasty parts were already consumed to lighten the load. It's possible the swiftclaw feels more comfortable here for leisurely dining... or perhaps it wishes to share, as it drags the carcas to rest it at Little Fang's toeclaws.

Thurid who is leaning on her maul while she chats with the sith'makar, nods slowly at the news, "I'd heard about the plague." she comments. She frowns at the topic of Infernal creatures appearing, but remains quiet throught the rest of the recounting. "Busy times." she says then, but she washes the frown from her face with a small chuckle on the topic of goblin festivities, "Aye, busy times indeed. I'm sure the watch has been vigilant with bucket chains." she muses.

She runs her fingers under the back of her hair and rubs her neck as she mulls things over a moment, "Seems like it's a good time for me to return, then. I'm sure I'll get a full accounting of what needs doing at the Temple." she concludes. "Thank you for the account." she says. Her gaze is drawn to the Swiftclaw and it's Prize, and she laughs again. "A fine catch." she observes.

Little Fang emits a squeak of glee, dropping the kite spool which slowly tumbles along the grass. She hisses mightily, still a small sound, and eagerly rips a gash with her toe-talons that she immediately shoves her nose into.

The white sith startles and stands quite tall. She's wary and clearly not used to swiftclaws being so generous. Or having table manners. "Yes. They are excellent hunters. This one is glad she found prey; sometimes they remember their riders are edible."

"This one is Cryosanthia, by the way. Cryo for casual emergencies. Yes. There is plenty to do in Alexandria. Perhaps this one will see you at The Mountain's."

If the Jotun is perturbed by the display of bloodthirst by either the claw or the young sith, she does not show it. She does, however, spy the unspooling kite cord- "Ah, don't let it get away." she warns, nodding her head towards it. She chuckles at the rather grim image of swiftclaw-on-rider violence, "Then I'm glad, as well. Though I suspect my meat is rather tougher than venison." she adds.

At the introduction, she offers another warm smile, displaying the faintest gap where a tooth was knocked loose long ago, "Thurid." she offers her own name, "Which seems short enough for most. Well met, Cryosanthia." the large woman offers.

The Swiftclaw watches the youngling eagerly pounce and dig in. The loss of the kite-spool doesn't spark interest, if even recognition; not that one would expect such to. After observing Little Fang a moment, she looks to the whitescale and snorts.

"Ah, yes," Cryo turns to spy the kite-spool. Her left hand flows through a graceful gesture, and the back of her glove glows with a pale light. She makes a reaching motion, and the spool halts, then floats up and towards her. Mage hand, likely very handy around younglings.

The snort invites some sort of reply. "What? This one probably tastes very nice." The whitescale says defensively, employing not the best argument perhaps. She explains further, "This one is always told, 'don't crouch in the Swiftclaw pen, they'll bite off your tail!', 'don't turn your back on a Swiftclaw, they'll bite off your tail!', 'You look afraid they'll bite off your tail, they can smell fear, they'll bite off your tail!'"

Her tail is held protectively behind her, a leg has been moved up in case something needs to be sacrificed for Little Fang. She looks over at Thurid, "Sometimes... they like chewing, but venison is good."

The Jotun nods her head at the description of the many ways in which a young Sith'makar might lose her tail to a Swiftclaw. "It sounds as though I may be lucky I don't have a tail." She muses. "Or a swiftclaw, for that matter." she tells the Cryo. She does cast a mildly concerned glance towards the little Sith, though, but as her mother doesn't seem /too/ alarmed, neither does the Jotun.

"Are you on your way into the city, when you are done rest?" She finally asks. "I wouldn't mind the company, the rest of the way, if I wouldn't be imposing." she says then.

The Swiftclaw seems to agree that venison is good, as she bends her jaws down to grasp a hunk near Little Fang and tear it loose. It is chewed some and then gulped down before she hisses. "Humanoids are too much gristle, or too much fat. Venison is far better."

Cryo is dilligently watching the swiftclaw and her youngling, wound tightly and ready to spring. Some doubt has already crept into her mind and is fully released when the Swiftclaw speaks, "AH!"

The whitescale startles in place, then says incredulously, "You talk?" A blink, those scales are the right colour, "Un'eth? You were my Swiftclaw all along? You heard everything? When I... and when I...?" Cryosanthia has had more embarassing moments in her life.

Another momenentary pause, "So how was my riding?"

She looks over at Thurid, "This one, uh... we, were returning to Mictlan. This one does not stay over in Alexandria much, unless there is business. Some of the news, mentioned earlier."

Thurid starts a bit at the Swiftclaw as it speaks, that- she was definitely not expecting. "I didn't know Swiftclaws could speak." she says then, and her casual leaning on the Maul ceases, her legs uncrossing at the ankles and she instead leans closer to peer at the unusual Swiftclaw.

She cants her head a bit as Cryo seems just as surprised, and then seems to recognize the creature. "A friend of yours?" she wonders, finally. A bit too distracted by this revelation to acknowledge their differing destinations, for the time being.

"Ssa," the Swiftclaw answers Cryosanthia's first question simply enough. The response to the latter is perhaps more open to interperetation. "You did not fall off."

Head and eyes now swivel and cant to the Jotunblooded. "I am Un'eth, Shaman of the Tyrranik, Warder of Mictlan and of Ea."

Imane makes her way from the South and the city gate heading northward by the looks of it. She carries her bow on her back and a quiver of arrows sideways across her lowerback which makes the thing bounce slightly with her walking though no arrows seem to be disturbed by it.

"Unssn!" Little Fang peeps, darting over the carcass to hug the Swiftclaw's ankle. Then she bites it.

"Ah, thanks." Cryo says, followed up by, "Lily, no chewing and... um."

The whitescale does seem a lot more relaxed however. She nods to Thurid, "Yes. Un'eth is friend and mentor to this one. She and her cihuaa advise, spiritually." Her tail sways happily behind her. The kite-spool has finished floating over also, she takes hold of that.

Thurid stands a short ways away from Cryo, the Swiftclaw, and a young Pink lizardling. She is leaning on the haft of her enormous maul, and currently staring incredulously at the Swiftclaw as it introduces itself.

She calms down a bit after the introductions, and ahs softly as realization dawns upon her regarding the unexpected talking Swiftclaw. She dips her head at the Switclaw, "Well met to you, as well then, Un'eth." she offers. Though she can't help but crack a grin at the bitey young one, shaking her head absently.

She spies the dark-clad elf making her way along the path, and waises a hand in greeting towards Imane, though she doesn't call out for now.

Imane looks up as she approaches the group and stops a respectable distance away, "Hail. How fares?" She asks everyone in general.

Swiftclaw's head lowers at the gnawing and she returns the favor... in a manner of speaking. Her maw opens to grasp Little Fang by the base of the tail. It is not bitten off, and in fact she is gentle enough to not overly scrape scales as she lifts the youngling up to set her upon her own back. "Are you warm enough, little one?" Scales are strong against some troubles, but cold is not generally one of them. <draconic>

"Ssassa iss cold. Air iss cold alsso." The youngling sprawls on Un'eth's back, arms and legs splayed, tail aligned down her spine. She hisses happily, the ride was clearly enjoyed, "Warmer! Pleassse" <draconic>

Cryo looks over, putting her hands together. She murmurs, "Sssorry. Thiss one will remember you feel it firrst." <draconic>

The whitescale sith's attention turns towards the Sildanyari, "Peace on your Nest. This one is well. We are well. The Ferry is thiss sid of the river again?"

Imane glances over her shoulder, "It was when I left it." she gestures towards the north and the forest, "Any been into the wood today?"

The Jotun woman offers Imane a smile as she approaches and speaks, "Well!" she offers, "Returning to the city after being away for some time." she says then. "And I hear tales of infernal creatures. I suspect I may be busy soon." she says and laughs a bit at that. She nods her head a bit at Imane's question, and points towards the half eaten buck carcass near the Swiftclaw.

"At least one of us has." she says. She cants her head a little at the draconian conversation, hearing one familiar word a few times amongst the hisses and chomping, but makes no comment. "Do you mean to hunt?" she wonders of the archer, and gestures towards her quiver.

Imane frowns, "Infernal activity in the city?? Hmm, I will have to look into tales like that..." she then nods and puts a hand on the quiver, "Aye. Too much time in the city already. Time to go home for a bit." she smiles easily enough.

Swiftclaw looses a staccato series of short hisses; there is no malice nor warning in the soft sound. First, she attempts to make the carnation carnivorette more comfortable. Fur is far better against the cold, though the coat she grants is somewhat ...indirect. Swiftclaw ripples and changes, coming to rest on four paws with white fur and very large lupine jaws.

Now that Little Fang has a fur coat to borrow or lose herself in, the large now-lupine snorts. "There are many threats, now, within and without the city." Her eyes flit to Cryosanthia. "That is why I chose to accompany you discretely."

"There is a giant summoning circle beneath the city." Cryosanthia confirms, "sections have been damaged, but it seems to still be functional in some ways and the cultists using it were not captured. It allows Demons to be brought in from anywhere, and several go about in disguise. Some were sighted near the temples, months ago."

"Wait, this one had a map." The white sith pulls a scroll tube out of her backpack, opens and unroll a marked up overview of Alexandria. It shows what is clearly a summoning circle, as well as dots. "Blue ones are disappearances, Green ones were Vampires, Red were demons."

There are a lot of dots, "I haven't updated it." It's held out in case the others wish a closer glance.

The swiftclaw's casting draws her attention, then she grins wildly as she becomes a wolf. "That would be much warmer."

Little Fang immediately starts gnawing on Un'eth's neck rough.

"This one greatly appreciates your company, Un'eth. This one can not thank you enough." Cryo inclines her head, nodding slowly.

Imane blinks at that, "A summoning circle? And a giant sized one at that??" she shakes her head then steps closer when the map is pulled out. She looks at it as she's told what the dots mean then shakes her head, "That is far too much activity for anyone's well being. Is there an effort being made to stem this tide of evil??"

Thurid lifts her maul, freeing its butt from the ground, and takes a step closer, resting the weapon against her shoulder once more as she leans in to take a closer look at the map. She frowns again, "They have been very active." she murmurs as she sees just how many dots there are. "I will need to be vigilant." she adds a moment later.

At the question from Imane, she turns to glance at the much shorter elf, and then she offers a grin, baring that small gap in her teeth once more, "I'm sure there was, but I'll be glad to add my hammer to the fight." she says then.

Imane nods to everyone, "Aye, this warrents investigation and action. Perhaps hunting in the wood should wait and hunting in the walls should begin in ernest?"

"Fiends have been within and around the city for some time," Un'eth growls. "Some were tracked to the Redridge and the spell cannon two summers past. They lurk, lie in wait, but I think they did not leave. For what purpose, I do not know, but it is nothing good for Ea or those who dwell upon Her. They will show themselves one day, and will be struck down on that day." The gnawing of her fur is taken in stride. The pink one would hardly be the first youngling, of any people, she has had perched on her back.

Cryosanthia nods as the Dire Wolf growls words of truth, then adds her own. "The Head Vampire and most of his spawn were dealt with. The largest demon... has not returned, but was not contained. The incidents of minor demons have shrunk. As Un'eth says though, they lurk, awaiting something and do not act. Wander the streets with True Sight up, one might see them."

She rolls up the map, puts it back in the tube which travels back to its home, "The disappearances have been resolved. A lot of this was tied in to the cause of the Magic Plague, which Arch-Paladin Silverguard Serene, Mage Mikilos Mithrallas and Sentinel Kira were instrumental in resolving, as was Silverguard Seldan, Lore-Master Morgan, Seer Merek, Mourner Verna, Mage Malik and a couple others. However the cultists weren't found, and some devils were recently spotted, but they were with a summoner. So, further efforts are necessary."

The little youngling is sliding herself back and forth on the Dire Wol's fur, finding the light friction of scales on fur to be very amusing. Ears are pulled, as Little Fang remains oblivious and grabby. Not hard though, she doesn't have much strength.

"One other thing," Cryo says, gazing carefully at the jotun and the dawn-elf, "If you come across Kobolds causing problems. This one would prefert to be brought in, and that they not be slain. There are some about, but they have been lying low, for now."

Turid listens carefully, nodding every so often, her eyes flitting between the speaker and her map as the situation is explained in some detail. Eventually she gives one, final, firm nod. "You have been a great help." she tells Cryo then, offering her a smile. "As for the Kobolds- I will bear that in mind. I do not make a habit of slaying those who do not deserve it." she says. She straightens up from her slightly stooped, map-viewing position, and then says, "Well, I had best be off. In light of the circumstances, would you accept a blessing to see you each safely on your way?" she asks the group at large.

She hefts her Maul into the air, the symbol of Angoron prominent on its weighty head, and then speaks a few words in the tongue of giants. She brings the butt of the weapons haft back into the ground, striking it solidly, and a wave of warm light flows out of the icon. With that done, she dips her head again, "Be well." she offers them all, and begins to walk towards the city gates.

Imane nods along with the explination then side glances the giantess before nodding, "Aye, perhaps tonight is not a good night to hunt alone.... " she glances back at the city and mulls it over a bit more.

"Be that which others break themseves on," Cryo says in a reverent tone with her head dipped as she accepts the blessing. Little Fang is oblivious, although she looks up from her chewing and pulling as the warm light flows over her. "Ssa?"

"Say 'Thanks' Little Fang," Cryo hisses.

"Thansss!"

The whitescale glances at the treeline, then at Imane once more, "This one fought a giant scorpion, a pair, that were beneath a bridge not long ago. They spoke Infernal, could cast spells, exploded on death. The things that have been slipping through the tears are fearsome. We are going to Wilderness Pointe, before our path becomes one for just us, if you travel that way."

"And I wasn't alone" Cryo adds.

Imane nods some, "I have no further buisness outside of the walls beyond some time in the wood.. I was not aware the woods so close to Alexandra were that dangerous, thank you for the warning." She thumbs back at the way she came, "Perhaps I should return to town and formulate a safer plan for venturing out?"

"This one is not skilled with woods. I have a compass and a star chart, and growing up was in a swamp with more allies, so it did not transfer well. This one knows some Druids and Rangers, followers of Gilead, that seem comfortable alone." Cryosanthia admits. She looks back in the direction of the ferry and Alexandria. Her voice is low, almost an afterthought to herself, "The city is not safe either."

She returns her gaze to Imane. The sith'makar face does not lend itself to easily recognized expressions. She seems impassive, and her eyes are like hard gems, glittering and unchanging, a mere slit of pupil down the middle. She cautiously says, "This one would recommend speaking to one skilled and knowledgeable about the woods. But! Ah! Here."

She pulls out a different map, this one showing terrain around Alexandria, "We were mapping the corruption, after the plague ended. This shows how the borders of the Feltwood and the Mystwood changed. We're here, see? Inside those it is much worse."

"Come with us," Cryosanthia says, rolling the map up and waving for Imane to follow. She checks that Lily is properly in place on the Dire Wolf, and rubs the wolf's ears as she steps towards the road. The dawn-elf and the wolf with her rider follow, they head towards Mictlan.

Dramatis Personae

Cryosanthia

Cryosanthia is an elegant sith-makar woman in the first year of her second century. She radiates confidence, a deep power from within. Her scales are a brilliant white, highlighted by ones which are the palest of glacial blues. These pale scales trace out the scars she used to bear, her hide is restored. She bears two fantastic patterns of these, one on her chest, the other completely covering her back from crest to tailtip. When the light hits right, one sees the dragon within. Her bearing is intense, her motions minimal grace. Two horns sweep back from her brow. Her eyes are like glittering saphhire gems, and when she blinks her eyelids have the glacial blue to them as well. She carries no weapons, and still keeps a tiny bag close to her heart.

Her clothing is various ensembles. At times she wears a layered robe, a mithril swashbuckling outfit, kilted leather, a loincloth, or nothing. The colours inevitably mirror her own. Brilliant white with shimmering blue highlights, piping and whorls. Snowflakes and dragon-eyes are a common motif.

Cryo has been changed, physically and fundamentally by her experiences. She grew into herself under the Queen of Endless Winter, and struggles to reconnect with herself, her body, and friends she hasn't seen in decades. Alien at times even to the sith-makar, her heritage is written on her scales, along with her spells.

Speaker of the Sith'makar

Thurid

This striking Jotun woman stands just over seven feet tall, barefoot. She has a mane of straw-coloured hair, that reaches down to the center of her back. It is tied into a multitude of braids on the left hand side, but allowed to fall freely on the right. She has piercingly bright light grey eyes with long pale lashes. She has slightly thick brows, a shade darker than her hair. Her cheekbones are high, and her jaw is somewhat strong, but her face retains a feminine set by virtue of a relatively small nose and full lips. She has a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks, and the faintest laugh lines etched into her features.

She has pale skin, but it features the heavy freckling and faint redness of being sun-kissed regardless, especially on her shoulders and forearms. She has a chiselled, muscular body, hard toned flesh highlighted with the valleys the muscles form where they meet across her back and shoulders. A six pack on her abdomen, and powerful thighs and calfs. She has somewhat broad hips and a modest bust- for her impressive height- and callused hands speaking of hard work, or martial expertise.

She wears a knee-length padded and sleeveless gambeson, over which she wears a similarly sleeveless suit of masterfully crafted chainmail armour with an integrated gorget etched with a thunderbolt. The armour is not quite as long as the top of her gambeson, but features plates of metal bolted to the chain in a pleated pattern to protect her thighs. On her upper arms, she wears a pair of armbands which squeeze against muscular biceps, and a pair of gauntlets on her hands. She wears a pair of heavy, hard wearing leather boots.

Over it all, she wears a narrow brown monastic scapular, belted at the waist, which hangs a bit lower than the bottom of her armor. The Scapular is emblazoned with the Bolt, Mountain and Maul symbol of Angoron in Red and Blue.

Imane

At 5'6" this young Elf would be lost in the throngs of humans and taller folk, going unnoticed for the most part, if not for the fact that she's not human.

This blonde elf is most often described as "leggy" by humans and those who share their sense of proportions. While by human standards her legs and even her torso are longer, her overall height is still a mere 5'6" making her shape a bit exaggerated, the curves more stretched etc.

Over her body she wears a black leather suit that encases and protects her from her neck on down and looks to be one piece, though, since the back is concealed beneath a waist-length jacket made from forest green fabric, might not be the case at all. What is true is that the suit is nearly seamless in front showing a fine degree of craftsmanship and has been fashioned to have a shiny surface that seems to move like rolling shadows as it pours over the swells and dips of her figure. The suit disappears into a pair of knee high black boots which have a heel to them adding another couple inches to her height. The suit has sleeves which fall to her thin wrists though she also wears gloves so there's really not much exposed skin there either. What is visible is her face and neck which are very pale and fair and provide a stark contrast to the forest green color of her large almond shaped eyes. Her hair is a nearly white shade of blonde and looks long and straight for the most part, though she currently wears it pulled back into a low ponytail which reaches the small of her back, though on either side of her face a spiral lock falls and frames her face. Her lips are a forest green color and shine with moisture while her eyes are shadowed in a similar green all in stark contrast to the pale color of her skin and hair.

Un'eth
Swiftclaw

This Swiftclaw is like many of it's brethren: sleek, muscular, and with notable teeth and toe-claws. The lengthy tail extends behind it to balance head and neck and allow for quick movement. What could be unusual is that the scales are midnight black, save for contrasting white highlights across head and down its spine. Amidst the white scales are several in teal that form a pattern of wavey lines and sworls.

Dire Wolf

This white-furred wolf is nearly the size of a warhorse, though with slightly less bulk. Splotches of grey and black streak across her pelt and break up her silhouette. The fur of her mane is streaked with an odd wavey pattern of ice-blue fur.