Valentine and The Dragon

Part 1: Ice Cold Demeanor

  The overcast gloom of the Coerthas Highlands, the cold howling winds that could freeze any mere man to ice within seconds, and the growl of local fauna that sends shivers within the bravest of soldiers. In the midst of this, within the high reaches of a cliff edge that draws the eyes of hungering beasts of the snow, a circular purple portal-like anomaly beginning to take shape, crackling bolts of energy at the surrounding area with thunderous booms until the snow is blasted away, with this sudden wave of air, a woman comes flying out like a ragdoll, yelping out as her body crashes into a tree then tumbles downwards to the unforgiving earth below with a loud crash. The predators approach, snarling and dripping strands of saliva from their sheer bloodlust and dire need of food, yet all they can see from this terrible snowstorm is a figure slowly hobbling to her feet, holding her arm with a pant of warm breath from her lips. This pale woman grips tightly at her gash, shivering at the cold as those whitish baby blues glance up past her platinum hair towards the portal she arrived from, it simply implodes and blasts another wave of momentum in every direction, bashing her again into the trunk of the tree. She groans and cries out in pain, though she was no helpless lamb, clenching her fist in adrenaline before reaching for her hip with a sly, slightly bloody, smirk.

???: "Time to teach these foul beasts some manners..."

  A group of feral wolves continue to approach with their spindly snow-white legs sinking into the deep snow with quiet crunches, all the while their snarling and growls echo between one another as their cone begins to close around the tree. The beasts halt, baring their fangs and letting loose their dangerously sharp talon-like claws, one of these animals, a leader by the stature and boldness prepares to pounce on the unsuspecting victim of their hunger until a chain fashioned with blades of a sword is flung straight into its open jaws and out through the back of its head with a bloody mess of gore and a disgusting crunch. The other beasts look around frantically until the sword is yanked back with force, reeling out of the wolf's skull until the woman leaps from her hiding spot and lands high-heel first onto one of the oblivious feral animals, crushing it beneath her weight with a whimper. She cackles and demands these foul creatures begone from her presence or face the consequences however three remain and the numbers are still not within her favor, yet that confident smirk never fades and she gently folds a strand of her silver hair behind her ear, swinging her whip sword with streaks of violet in a battle stance. 

  It wasn't long before these poor fur-covered animals joined their leader in death, each meeting their grisly end by either magics or the blades of her trusty weapon, one of which being choked by the neck with the sharp pieces of the weapon digging into its flesh before flinging it like a ragdoll into a tree with a vile whack, dropping it's limp corpse to the snow as the last of its pack, leaving the woman alone in this cold weather. The blade, though sporting the crimson of fallen hunters, was sheathed upon her hip, for the time being, allowing her to catch her breath and wipe the sweat from her brow. Our mysterious newcomer stood in the deep forest, looking about for signs of civilization, however, all she could spot, was a mere cottage on a hillside, a plume of smoke pouring out from the top of a chimney and the tint of contrasting orange light from the windows. The attire she wore was not aiding her in the slightest, exposing more areas of her body to the elements than typical clothes worn in such weather, she had to act quickly if she was to survive.