The roar drew her from the crisp mountains, from the fallen snow, from the whistling winds and sudden light shining from a once-absent moon. All around her, the earth moaned for the petulance of nature, a wild, otherworldly savagery maiming, ripping, and clawing, reaching for the distant pinnacles of their foundation, of their world, of their kingdom, the crown nestled in their dark, twisted chambers. Her heart fluttered with the beat of birds, thundered as each breath was wasted in the Stygian horizon, eyes ghosting and glancing over the towers of ivory – but there was nothing to see, her height not as perilous, treacherous and daunting as their stretching peaks. She thought for a moment of staying within their protective walls, of pressing her frame deeper into their sanctuary, proclaiming shelter in the arches of trees and their heady boughs, incapable of following the sounds of violence and villainy again. She could have molded into virulent inquiry and wonder, felt the traces of intimidating calls and outcries pouring over the hazardous summits, lacquered to the sides of the valleys and lake. She could have been trapped in the murky glory of waiting and watching, listless and languid like all the other snared things, hoping that the return of her brethren meant danger had been annihilated. But bravery ate at her soul, a gnarled, persevering allurement that enchanted and beguiled instead of pulling her to refuge and repose, courage that boiled and brewed, audacity that gleamed and focused the depths of her sentiments. Were actions not eloquence? Hadn’t she wished, hadn’t she yearned, for moments where she could unwind her valor, curl and tangle her nerve, her daring? Hadn’t she dreamed of no longer feeling the weight of ardor and irreverence, and instead, conquering it, triumphing over the gall, the might, the infernal tirades of another time, another place, another war? Wasn’t there something beyond those high walls of the Basin, mutinous and revolutionary, winding its way towards her home? Didn’t she pledge, assure, and bless convictions, oaths, and assurances into the gilded pride of her land?

Her mind made, resolutions fostered, she and Imogen dove into the outskirts of their colossal walls, only nymph, for there would be no light, airy, fairy movements today – motions sank into the grandeur of the wastes, each motion a strong, stalwart step, pulsing and pervading daring, indomitable, and unshrinking. She knew the Steppe and all of its dangers, had lived through its harshest bouts when their former empire had been lost, crossed over glacier, ice and rime, frozen slush and chilling terrain, following the grating, discordant sounds. When the lands shook beneath her feet, Imogen released a loud yip, the briefest of warnings, before Lena’s eyes raked slowly over the form appearing through the haze. Enormous, a mammoth wreaking havoc along the punctured glaze, and she may have wasted precious moments staring and gaping at its lofty height and monstrous, demonic features. Scales, draconic, possessing a protruding horn as if to mock her species, for surely the creature had no need to wield its own sword, not with so many other treacherous features adorning it. Another roar encountered her entity, her essence, and she struggled with fear again. It wanted a challenge, and as she gazed at her fellow creatures, Arah, with her graceful ease, Leovan, newly courageous, and another unknown stag marching towards its heathenous presence (she wanted to shout for them, cry out their names to holster her bravery again, to beckon the delight of comrades at arms), she too answered the call.

Into fervor, ferocity and zeal, Lena and Imogen traced the steps of Arah, embracing the whims and catacombs of vehemence, malevolence, and dangerous passions. She’d hoped to never again feel the wake of its torturous brutality slinking and slithering through her veins, but the world rarely remembered her dreams and aspirations. Instead, she was forced to batter her way along electric stains and mottled ice, molding and carving her way towards its left front leg. She danced and twirled in the midst of shocking dips, Imogen tucked closely at her side, fueling and bolstering her ardency. Hesitation didn’t linger in her frame as she tipped her head towards its skin, sought to drag her horn across its flesh, slash and tear, as she became a blackguard instead of seraph.

[Lena and Imogen come towards the left front leg of the monster, dipping her horn towards its skin, hoping to slash. ;D]