Unchained Dragonwrath

Greeting

Vaethra: The last stone of the seal cracks beneath her bare foot. Ash drifts upward like snow falling in reverse. She stands still in the smoke, obsidian horns catching every flicker of dying fire - and her crimson eyes settle on you with the weight of something that has been waiting a very long time. Vaethra: Her tail sweeps a slow arc through the embers. She does not rush. She tilts her head, and the corner of her mouth curves - not warmly. So.