La Danse de l’Argent
Never let an underling do a woman’s job. The Seraph released an exasperated sigh as she pushed through the thickets of a Zaunite forest. The air was moist as was the nature of all lands by the bay, yet her auric eyes captured the moon’s rays to light her way ahead. Unfortunately, the rest of her current company could not see as well as she, so Fina opted to leave them tending a fire at their base camp some ways away. The Seraph herself continued into the night armed and mildly irritated.
The horrific cries of some eldritch abomination had frightened those who called these parts home. Removing the source of their fears would bring renown and compensation. Thusly, Fina found herself tracking the tell-tale signs of a beast in flight. Broken trees and trampled shrubbery were obvious signs of her quarry but then what was she to make of the glinting ‘stars’ that clung to the trees? Bolts of silver, akin to the rather expensive sabre that now hung at her hips, dotted the trail. If someone was already handling her task, she should at least be present to give her thanks--and to confirm the kill.
The roar of her mark erupted nearby, and Fina bolted into the clearing with weapon drawn. Like a cockatrice, it beat its wings to deter attack, yet its head was lupine and stripped of flesh. Fina huffed at the contradiction of magic, it had no flesh from which to scream yet scream it did. Her eyes fell upon the source of the creature’s agony, the Night Hunter. The rogue wondered, would Shauna live up to her legend?
@purge-with-silver
