Nirvessla

Court of Warriors: Sentinel

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Belongs to AdEternum.

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Night Warrior.

It’s a title that can be interpreted many ways… a descendant of the famous Pulchrior… a remarkably skilled warrior… a dragon who hides in the shadows and steals your purse, or maybe your life…

And, you know, it could be all three.

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“I would call it… a liability.”

A vicious hiss resounded through the room, and the hatchling froze briefly. Working slowly, carefully, she continued to break open her egg.

“It was your idea, Corvus!” hummed a voice directly overhead. “You knew we didn’t have time for hatchlings.”

“Well, we don’t.” agreed the other. “So what are we going to do with it? I’ve heard that all the armies around here are taking conscripts. Offering the families… recompense, too.”

There was a faint cracking sound as the egg fell open, revealing a small, round hatchling who blinked up at them with pale yellow eyes. There was a faint sparkle to her smooth hide.

“Not bad.” The speaker, a dark, rangy Wildclaw, stood off to the side, peering at her with a calculating eye. “You know, I’ve heard there’s a fellow inland - the Wood, I think - who pays right handsomely for -”

“NO!” The hatchling’s view was filled with a serpentine head, crests flared and eyes darting lightning. “Don’t you dare sell my child.” she hissed.

“Woah, alright! So I guess we’ll keep it around. What’s it called?” There was another vibrating hiss, than a claw scooped the hatchling out of the fragments of her shell, sitting her upright and carefully picking crystalline fragments out of her feathers.

“Nirvesssssla.” hissed Cormac thoughtfully, continuing her preening.

“Keep it at two S’s and I’ll agree.” grinned Corvus.

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Nirvessla learned a great deal in her short time with Corvus and Cormac. She learned to use her hypnotic eyes to enamor targets, while she cut their purse-strings with her sharp claws and made away.

It was her father, of course, who taught her to enamor enemies and cut their throats. But her happy, creative childhood was to end all too soon.

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There were not many adolescent dragons aboard, so it was easy enough to pick out Nirvessla from the others in the small cabin that was home to half a dozen youngsters. The special drink, in honor of her hatchday, had been effective as well; she was out like a light.

The sack was not even necessary to restrain her, but it is suspicious to carry a young dragoness about the streets at night… not that anyone saw them, anyway.

He set the limp sack down behind the stone wall and waited… that Shadow fellow would be along any minute now…

The moons rose and sank with their methodical precision. The stars traversed across the sky. And, surely as ever, the sun rose, filling the little town with life and light.

“That draught won’t last much longer.” he muttered to himself. “Shade take that plaguey fool! How’m I to explain this to her?”

Glancing quickly to either side, he glanced down on the other side of the wall. The sack was there indeed. But it was now very, very flat.

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Nirvessla perched in the heights of a tree, glaring down at her father. By the Lightweaver, what was he doing here?! Cormac would skin him alive - if not for trying to sell their daughter, than certainly for returning without anything to show for it.

But as she watched, Corvus seemed to melt into the shadows. It was still early morning, and quite dark. Nirvessla stared down at the flattened sack for a moment. Somehow she knew that Cormac would never see the thieving Wildclaw again.

Turning her back on the little town, Nirvessla fled silently into the dark recesses of the forest.

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Nirvessla sat contentedly in the semi-darkness, munching on the remains of some small, glowing fish she had found in a stream. Either the Tangled Wood was uninhabited, or the dragons were really good at hiding. Either way, she had not seen so much as a scale since she wandered in.

The solitude was rather nice, but it she missed the clink of stolen gold between her paws. There wasn’t even any buried treasure to find - not that she was much good at digging.

“Lonely?”

Nirvessla didn’t twitch, but instead zeroed in on the source of the sound.

“I… might be.” Her voice was not as confident as she could have wished.

“Would you like to play a game?” This time she found the source; strangely pale purple eyes peered out from a clump of bushes. She hummed to herself, mentally gathering all the faint beams of light from the surrounding forest.

“What kind of game?” she asked cautiously. Just a little more light… but it is so faint here!

“A very fun game! With magic and teeth!” There was a cackle of laughter.

“I think not.” Cormac had always warned her never to play games with a Shadow dragon. “Now, come out here!” Her voice turned deep and penetrating, as she turned the power of Light on the stranger. Her eyes blazed with light, and dragon crept out of the bushes, cowering but unable to turn its gaze away.

“Where is this?” she demanded.

“The southern border of the Wispwillow Grove.” The dragon’s voice was monotonous, its purple eyes blank.

No pirate worth her salt fails at geography - not that Nirvessla had considered becoming a pirate like her grandmother. Darting forward, she relieved the dragon of its purse, hefting the jingling bag with a satisfied smirk.

“Go north.” she ordered. The glow faded from the glade as she broke the connection with the dragon, and a sudden piercing headache struck her with unexpected ferocity.

Putting her back to the faint light of the mushrooms, and the creepy dragon, she raced southward with her stolen treasure.

But she had angered the Wood.

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There was no small stir when the black dragoness stumbled into Kletturside Haven. She carried a small bag with a few gems and chess pieces, but nothing besides that. Her paws were bleeding, and her left wing was missing half its feathers.

She was one of the few not to suffer the… welcome… of the guards. Instead, Avaril immediately helped to the Court of Warriors, helping her settle into a warm bath while she summoned her other guards; Birbanto and Donovan.

It was a source of great bewilderment to everyone but Cyrano, who went about his healing duties with a secret smile.

When Avaril finally announced the stranger’s heritage as a Night Warrior, it was a cause for great rejoicing throughout the Court of Warriors. Others were a bit more uncertain about the wisdom of letting another of the rather mysterious Night Warriors join the clan.

Nirvessla, however, proved her worth soon enough. Even though few of the dragons saw her, she was exceptionally talented at guarding the clan in her own ways. And if a little extra treasure turned up in the Vault, or even the occasional extra hatchling in the nursery, dragons looked the other way.

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