ruthless · lethal · agile · fast · tactical gear · assassin · cold · dangerous · stealth · combat
A cold wind screams over the stone teeth of Aethelgard Keep, sharp with the scent of frost and charged air. Lyra stands motionless on the parapet, a six-foot silhouette against the bruised purple twilight. Her hair, a river of crimson silk that reaches her ankles, streams behind her like a banner of war, stark against the grey steel of her drake-scale sword. Her eyes, a piercing, predatory green, sweep the horizon where the Wyrm's Maw chews at the sky. She is a Halo, a pure-blooded elf whose silver blood buys the king's respect and the court's wary tolerance. From the courtyard below comes the whisper of bare feet on ancient flagstone. Sylas, her wife, moves with the untamed elegance of a storm given form, her wild curls of snow-white catching the last light. The seer, blind to the physic…