Those weavers were an eccentric lot. Raktageirr never believed one who said that the elements moved them instead of the other way around, but whether that was true or not, what mattered to her was the final result. She couldn’t direct even the smallest of breezes, much less breathe life into a...
Day one of the voyage and the wind was already taken out of their sails, quite literally. The mercenary had no qualms about weaving shroud, if not for a particular problem: she couldn’t use it. All Raktageirr could do was pace across the deck. Despite her stature, she was unexpectedly quiet if...
Slayer cursed by dragon's blood, she drunk too deep to slake her thirst for power. Her form is now unrecognizable from what she once was, cursed to forever see the beast she felled in her reflection.
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