Venatrix

Venatrix
The Huntress

---

---

The Windswept Plateau borders the Southern Icefield, and the westernmost coasts are far less hospitable than the sheltered, lively steppes- marred with dark, volcanic stone and cold, wind-whipped hills. Lush bamboo groves give way to short shrubs and thin grasses, and crops grow less readily, smaller clans tending to herds of hardy goats and sheep. These lands are directly beneath the Twisting Crescendo, and only the most determined of dragons make their homes on the ground here instead of on the powerful torrent of wind- the lifeblood of the Plateau. Tornados lash across the plains, currents brought to life painting the landscape in wide, dark swathes.
Buried deep in the earth, between old permafrost and ancient stone beneath the moors, a twisted creature opened one amber eye.

---

Claws pound against the earth, flying over the moors.
She did not understand where she was going, but it was clear she was going somewhere. The wind snapped against her fur, as if demanding she leave the earth to join the wind screaming above, though her wing-claws were feeble and small. Something had called her from the cave deep inside the earth, though she did not know what it wanted. Only to move. Only to chase.
She had seen no other dragons on the ground, but she could swear their voices screamed from the terrifying vortex twirling above, or perhaps it was only the wind. The scream of the gales was familiar though, somehow, and she allowed herself to take brief comfort in the noise.
Wind. Snow. Chasing, hunting, guarding.
The memories shot through her head, and she almost stumbled, her large, heavy paws slipping on the cold grass. Why was everything coming back to her? What was coming back to her? What was she chasing?
Despite her doubt, she continued running. It would be dangerous to stop, she knew.
Seeker. Find it. Danger.
Her paws beat harder against the ground. This time, she did not stumble. Her instinct driving her flared to life, and the scents flooding into her nose were suddenly recognized, organized, into words and memories.
There was a darkness on the plains.
Hunt.

---

Who had awoken her from her slumber?
She dragged her claws across the dirt, staring across at the pale blue monster. She- he- it?- was wrapped in layers of dirty, pale cloth, fur, and armor, staring at her through the dark eyes of a bleached skull. Emotionless beneath the mask. Tall and covered in spines, she was suddenly hit by the realization of how young she looked compared to the beast facing her.
She- could she remember her name?- stared back, a snarl curling up her lips to expose long, curved teeth and dragging a slow, deep inhale into her lungs. She smelled like old dirt, and ice, and earth, but behind the mask, she smelt the same wild magic of the vortex. Rain and petrichor clouded her senses, but the bitter scent laying across the land still roused anger and fear in her chest. However, the creature in front of her- dragon?- smelt no more like it than the dirt under her claws.
When the beast's arms began to move, she started with a growl, but they seemed unconcerned, removing the bone mask from their face. Pale green eyes and a pointed, sharp muzzle, with scales the color of the sky. The scent of frozen dirt and old blood washed off of her- she smelt familiar. Like a hunter. Like... home.
"Are you... one of me too?" she asked, surprised, as if remembering she could speak. The dragoness just silently shook her head.
"I do not know what you are," the stranger replied. "But you are not one of mine."

---

---

---

shes kinda ugly but its okay i love her


do i take everything back? yes i do

Venatrix was a member of the seeker order while the Gaolers still roamed Sornieth. Very young but having dedicated her life to the order, she was trapped in a cave-in while attempting to subdue a shade beast and the cave was frozen over with a thick layer of ice magic to prevent it, or her (should she be infected by the shade in death) from escaping. When the gaolers returned to Sornieth, her frozen body- now sealed underground by a thick layer of permafrost and earth- was thawed. She holds little resentment for this, and doesn't entirely remember her life before waking.
There were a handful of local legends about her; not much, merely hatchling's rumors of a strange beast lying dormant in a cave, or strange patches of frozen earth that would never take crops.