Starting Date and Time: 17th day of Jadeyan, 301 DM, Morning

Starting Location: Kerawac (Valley of the Screamers), Forest.

CS URLs: Zenovia & Genrit’khaath
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The morning sun beamed through the trees of the forest however the morning light remained cold due to the time of year. Hunting was difficult at this time, but the occasional boar or fox roamed the forest in the early stretches of the day.

A woman sat alone in the forest, her legs crossed and her back upright, but still relaxed. Her eyes were closed and her body remained still, meditating. To a regular person or creature, it seemed as though she was lifeless and still, however to someone with magical aptitude, they would feel an aura of magic around her.

"You know. I'll never get used to seeing my own body like this." Zenovia commented, looking at her body with her spiritual one. Her spiritual body was a ghosty, blue colour, as was everyone else's, small blue flickers came off her body like a flame. "Being a shaman really takes 'out of body experiences' to a whole new level." She added rather blankly. She glanced at her Mentor who's spirit she had called to guide her with her training. The Drow chuckled lightly, "Well, you'll just have to get used to it. It might take you a year or two." Zenovia shrugged slightly before turning away from her physical body, facing her mentor. Of course, this conversation couldn't be heard by anyone without the power of 'Spiritism' as it was aptly named.

"I'll watch over your body while you hunt. I'll be sure to call you if something happens." The old Drow said with a nod. Zenovia nodded in response as she walked a little further into the forest. 10 meters was the maximum she could go due to her inexperience, but it was far enough, or so she thought. A direboar crossed her path, taking a drink from the river. Thankfully, the boar couldn't sense any danger since it couldn't sense magic, however she had to suppress her own blood lust just to make sure. She hadn't done this before, but her mentor had told her that hunting was really easy when using Spirit walking. All she needed to do was attack the Boar's spiritual body to disable it. Easy enough.

Unfortunately, it was just outside 10 meters. Her staff didn't have the reach, nor the striking power to do anything substantial from so far away. She cursed under her breath, wishing she had brought a bow and arrow instead of her staff.

A deep red covers Genrit'khaath's otherwise pure white body as he steps around the outside of his cave. Huge streaks of crimson gore have stained his brilliant scales, yet to be washed off. He personally loathes having such a gruesome image, much preferring the white shining brilliance he is capable of. But ever since he was freed he has needed to fight to regain his territory. Looking like you've just gutted twelve other dragons helps assert dominance to any larger creatures you come across. The massive dragon has managed to smear himself from snout to tail with the blood of the creatures he has slain in order to gain a more intimidating appearance. And when you're as large as Genrit, it works.

A collection of what appears to be various bones rests outside of his cave, a warning to any passersby not to disturb whatever resides within. However, they are merely illusions. Rocks filled with magic and turned into tricks of the eye. Genrit would never bother actually transporting the bones of the creatures he feeds on, much preferring to eat them. He taps a stained claw against one of the larger rocks in a new pile, taking a deep breath as he begins the illusion. The rock takes on the appearance of a half-dragon's skull. This makes him grunt once in acknowledgement of his choice before he moves on to four more small rocks. It has taken time, only transforming a few a day, but the pile of fake bones has become a fearsome display, even stretching inside of the cave a small distance.

Satisfied with his progress, he decides that it's time that he did a patrol for the day. Maybe find something to eat if he spots something big enough. He turns and walks away a certain distance before flapping his wings, propelling himself in the air. He has regained his strength by now, carrying himself far up into the air and looking at the area around him. A grumble rises through his throat as he thinks about where to head. Maybe today is a good day to wash, it has been quite some time. His own vanity will prompt him to clean his scales and keep them that way for a few days, but the need to maintain appearance is always there. He tilts his body to the side and flies towards the forest, his powerful wings beating loudly.

He goes out further than he usually does, feeling like he has the luxury to explore on account of him having nothing else planned. Though he is certainly looking forwards to the metals back at the cave that he managed to get his hands on when he caught out some traders passing by near Pyresia. He didn't need to even kill them for it, one look at him and hearing the deep, powerful roar of his and they couldn't give him what he wanted and run away fast enough. Genrit'khaath smirks to himself as he remembers this. To be expected of someone as brilliant as him, really.

He manages to spot a river and starts trailing along it. Easy. He's bound to spot something eventually, covering ground as quickly as he is. Not much time passes before he sees something. A dire boar, all on its lonesome. Just what he was looking for. Without hesitation he arcs downwards, his wings folding against his body as he speeds towards his prey. His wings fold out just as he is about to make contact, slowing him enough so that the following impact doesn't end with him splatted across the ground himself, having only needed the speed to take the beast by surprise.

The impact of his claws digging into the boar and slamming it to the ground causes the earth beneath them to shake. He cracks the boar's skull, but not enough to kill it. It lets out loud, pained squeals as it writhes in place, being held down by the strength and weight of the massive dragon. He doesn't bother himself with trying to find a way to finish it off by throwing it around or bashing its head against the ground. Instead, his already bloodied mouth starts tearing away at its underbelly, starting to eat it alive. Genrit growls aggressively as he starts tearing the dire boar apart, brutally eviscerating it.

She stood there, waiting for the direboar to move in her direction.. It stopped drinking and looked up into the sky for a split second before a giant red and white.. thing went crushed it. The shock of the sudden event caused Zenovia to lose her concentration, sending her spirit back to her body. She gasped as her spirit rammed itself back into her body. She felt like throwing up, but she shook her head, regaining her composure after a few minutes. She slowly got up, using her staff as a support, her legs wobbling slightly as she rose. "FUCK!" she shouted aloud as if she stubbed her toe. Her heart slowed as she calmed down after her outburst.

She jogged quickly toward the river, only to see a giant lizard's maw tearing into the unfortunate animal which was now a pile of viscera. She stopped just outside the trees, closer to the river, her staff's rings jingling as movement came to a sudden halt. Her eyes wide, she stared at the dragon, taking in it's massive form and power. There was nothing she could say. She wasn't about to accuse a giant beast of stealing her prey. Her crow swooped down quietly, perching on Zenovia's staff, also watching the gruesome spectacle.

"What is a dragon doing here? Outside of Pyresia?" Her mentor spoke up as she too stared at the massive creature. Since all dragons were blessed with innate magic, the blood covered dragon could easily sense Zenovia's mentor's presence next to the Kvaren.

"A.. Dragon.." She repeated softly. She marveled at it's imposing presence and the amount of blood it had on it's scales. She suspected that it had killed a lot of animals or creatures to get that bloodied. Her instincts told her to run, but her mind wished to gaze as this magnificent, brutal creature.

By the time the two spectators arrive all that's worthy of note that remains of the boar is it's head, which is still being firmly held onto by his huge claws. He breathes loudly as he calms down from his frenzied consumption of the creature. Genrit releases the head, strings of congealed blood sticking to each claw as he does so. A satisfied growl accompanies a swipe at the flesh in front of him, tearing away fat and sinew to reveal the bone underneath. Now this is a skull actually worth taking back to his cave. He'll need to be a bit more precise in order to tear away the skin without getting carried away and just crushing the thing. His long white tongue slips out of his mouth and licks along one side of his maw, wiping up some of the dripping blood.

It's in this moment that he senses something nearby. A jingling sound and a source of magic other than his own. He visibly stills, trying to determine what that something is. His head slowly turns, neck curving to look behind him as he manages to gradually pinpoint where it's coming from. A lone human. His pale eyes stare over at her and a deep growl slips through his teeth. His body steadily turns to face her. She's been gawking at him instead of just going her own way, so she must have something to say.

He says nothing, waiting for her to either state her business or leave.

Her pale blue eyes widen slightly as the dragon turns to face her. She almost takes half a step back, but she remembers her teachings from her old hunting companions, If I make the slightest movement to show weakness, he will kill me. She thought to herself. Her mentor turned to her, "Do not be so afraid, my child. Dragons are intelligent beings, they can speak common, among the many languages that they learn throughout their long life. They are not simple beasts." The Drow said with confidence, but she still had doubts, considering how utterly consumed the boar was.. It had been a long time since she had seen a dragon, her last memory of a dragon was when Vircastoria was still a powerful kingdom. Both Zenovia and her mentor could feel an overwhelming sense of magic from the Dragon's spirit, which reinforced her flight instincts, but she stayed as strong as she could to stop herself from running.

"I have not heard of a white dragon with this appearance.. Who is he? Is he not a Pyresian?" She wondered. Zenovia took a deep breath to calm herself before repeating her mentor's question, "Who are you? Are you not from Pyresia?" She asked in the most non-hostile way she could muster. She was far too used to speaking curtly, and now wasn't the time to speak in such a way.

The manner with which she speaks is reminiscent of the times he has confronted humans in the past. He can't deny that he enjoys having someone watching the way they speak around him. It gives him a sense of importance and overall power over the situation. His chin tilts up slightly and some smoke begins to smolder out of the corners of his mouth. "Genrit'khaath." Pyresia... Another mention of the city of dragons. He can't help but feel insulted by the suggestion that he comes from such a place and it shows with the distaste in his voice as he continues. "I sustain myself with that which is in my territory. Alone, like a dragon is meant to be."

One of his claws digs into the earth, scratching a hole into it as he observes the human with his pale eyes. His tongue slivers out and licks a wet patch of blood on the side of his mouth, smearing it and further staining his otherwise white tongue. "What might an insect like you doing all the way out here? There are no settlements nearby and I don't see a horse. Quite a distance for such small legs." His tone is antagonizing, though there is genuine curiosity. He doesn't approach her any further than he already has. He's certain that if she really gives him a reason to kill her the current distance won't make too much of a difference.

"I.. See.." She responded briefly. There was nothing much she could say to that. Her master was quietly nodding at the Dragon's response. "Ah yes, just like the dragons from the stories that I heard as a child." The drow said to no one in particular.

Zenovia could feel a slight irritation well up inside of her when Genrit referred to her as an 'insect'. Bloody proud aren't you. If I was your size, you'd be as dead as the boar. She grit her teeth slightly, but overall showed no sign of being disrespectful, even if the dragon didn't deserve any. "I am Zenovia, Warlord of The Silent Ravens. And I was just here on a personal.. hunting trip." She paused for a moment before continuing, forming a more formal sentence compared to 'We're Kvaren and we've been here awhile.', "We, Kvaren are nomadic, so you may not see settlements, but most likely groups of travelers... And my horse got stolen." She replied, sounded a little exasperated in the final sentence.

"He may not know who we are now, but most likely, what we were before. Tell him that we hail from Vircastoria. Her mentor instructed. Zenovia nodded slightly in response before continuing. "300 years ago, we lived in a city named Vircastoria. But as of the Death of Magic, the city crumbled and the people scattered. We are what remains." She explained. Her mentor had told her stories when she was a child, of the magic city of Vircastoria and how magnificent it was.

Ah, so she has some sort of importance about her. Though he has no idea who The Silent Ravens are, he at least acknowledges her place in their society. Which doesn't really mean much given his overall disposition towards humans. He shifts in place and shakes his head quickly, flicking some slightly coagulated blood off of his face. A thoughtful rumble rises from his throat as he considers what she says about Vircastoria. So it fell, did it? Genrit internally muses about just how much of the world fell into chaos when magic faded. It must have truly been a dramatic change. If it was enough to get dragons to cooperate in such away, he can't imagine just how hard it hit the lesser races, let alone those that resided in such a magic reliant city.

"A shame. You were so proud once. But now..." His head turns to the mutilated corpse behind him and a small smirk graces his lips before he looks back at her. "Now you're just like the rest of the animals in this forest." He chuckles and taps a talon against a stone next to him a few times, carving a few lines down it as he continues. "Though at least you kept some scraps of your dignity. I can't say the same for the other dragons of Pyresia. Cowards." He stops tapping the rock and slinks forwards, lowering his body and moving a few long steps closer. His head hovers just off the ground a few meters away from her. "You still ride horses. You have creatures that serve you. I assume you still have cattle, too. Being nomadic you rely on your skill and your wits. Like a true dragon. Not like those that chose to beg for help from what we once saw as nothing more than dirt." His lips curl into a grin, smoke puffing out from the corners of his mouth as his rows of teeth are shown. "I can respect that."