Vestra Eralima

Vestra Eralima (75mm, 142mm) pre-supported

Vestra Eralima moved through the mist-shrouded pines like a wisp of smoke, her form barely disturbing the blanket of fallen needles. The only clear features were the pair of large, black-tipped fox ears that crowned her head, twitching at frequencies unheard by mortal ears, and the two slender, cruelly curved blades she carried in her hands. The swords, known as Song and Sorrow, were extensions of her will, their mirrored surfaces reflecting not the world around her, but the shimmering aura of life itself. She was a silent guardian of these woods, a boundary between the realm of men and the older, deeper magic that slumbered within the ancient trees. Her ears flattened against her silver hair as she caught the signature she had been waiting for—the dissonant vibration of poachers, armed with cold iron and greed, trespassing upon sacred ground.

There was no shouted challenge, no declaration of her purpose. Vestra simply flowed from the mist into their midst. Her movements were a lethal dance, a whirlwind of precise, elegant strikes. Song and Sorrow hummed as they cut the air, their thin blades finding gaps in leather armor and severing weapon straps with surgical accuracy. She did not kill to maim, but to disarm and terrify. To the poachers, she was a phantom—a flash of silver, a pair of glowing eyes in the gloom, and the terrifying silhouette of those massive fox ears tracking their every panicked movement. As the last man fled screaming into the night, Vestra stood silently, her ears pivoting to ensure their retreat. The forest was safe once more. She sheathed her blades and melted back into the shadows, a myth made flesh, forever listening.