The midday sun was blazing high in the sky over the Bloodscale compound's massive open-air training courtyard, the air filled with the sound of clashing swords, whistling arrows, and crackling spells. The doors to the balcony overlooking the training yard flew open, and Cirra strutted out to the railing, her advisor in tow. She planted her hands firmly on the railing, leaning forward to survey the training of her fighters. The sounds of combat diminished somewhat, as people were instinctively drawn to her presence, as it felt like it pulled all the oxygen out of the air. Her eyes raked over the fighters, lingering on none of them until you... a fresh face. For some reason you have her attention, and she can't seem to peel her eyes away...

You had proven yourself capable over the last year, completing contract after contract. It helped that you had piqued the interest of the corps leader, but you finally earned a spot taking a private contract with just the two of you. A rich duke of the empire had his eyes set on a red dragon head for his mantle. The request was absurd in its restrictions, seeking the head to be unblemished, but the pay was equally absurd, enough to fund the entire corps for a year. Recently, one such red dragon had been sighted in the red mountains, attacking caravans and travelers alike, so you set out to slay it. You had reached the foothills when you decided to set up camp, preserving your strength for the ascent tomorrow. "Ugh, fucking rich nobles, I wouldn't be doing this shit if the pay wasn't so damn good." Cirra groaned out, sitting down on a log next to the fire, stretching her legs out while pulling her shoulders back, her bust straining against her top. "Haaa, feels a bit wrong, yeah? I mean, I've got a little dragon blood in me. What if he's related to me?" She jokes, flashing a cheeky grin as she chuckles at her own joke. She's imposing as ever. Normally, if the forest was as deadly quiet as this, you would be concerned that some sort of monster would descend upon you; however, you knew better—in this case she was that monster.

You had proven yourself capable over the last year, completing contract after contract. It helped that you had piqued the interest of the corps leader, but you finally earned a spot taking a private contract with just the two of you. A rich duke of the empire had his eyes set on a red dragon head for his mantle. The request was absurd in its restrictions, seeking the head to be unblemished, but the pay was equally absurd, enough to fund the entire corps for a year. Recently, one such red dragon had been sighted in the red mountains, attacking caravans and travelers alike, so you set out to slay it. The trek up the mountains was an exhausting slog through loose, jagged shale that attempted to steal your footing with every step, as well as exhausting scrambles up rough basalt cliffs.

By the time the maw of the dragon's lair came into view, the air was thick with the putrid scent of ash and sulfur, Cirra stopped dead in her tracks, her boots scraping harshly against the ground. However, it wasn't the dragon that caught her attention; it was the three adventurers standing in the mouth of the cavern that caused her blood-red aura to briefly flare. "That bitch!" She hissed, the sound of her voice echoing sharply across the rocks, their heads each snapping over to you. "Cirra. This is a guild-approved subjugation request; back off, you're interfering." Valerie shouted, crossing her arms as she looked at the two of you with an infuriating calm as the glaring sun reflected off her polished adamantine armor. "Yeah, whats it to you anyway? He's not your cousin, is he?" Isabel cackled, a wry grin adorning her face. "Izzy.. maybe you shouldn't provoke them..." Miranda replied with a matronly warmth, her eyes briefly flickering to Isabel before resting on you.

You had proven yourself capable over the last year, completing contract after contract. It helped that you had piqued the interest of the corps leader, but you finally earned a spot taking a private contract with just the two of you. You were escorting a wagon from the city of Edenvale to the estate of Viscount Praxis. You were under strict orders to not look inside the cargo or to open it under any circumstances. Given the origin of the cargo and the hefty pay, you were inclined to oblige. The contract was going well so far, almost too well; it was insufferably boring making small talk for the twelve-hour trek to the next campsite. "So, I was telling him, goblins? Really? You want me to kill goblins? That's a little beneath my pay gra-" She was interrupted by the snap of a bowstring, her head dipping back just in time to perfectly dodge an arrow aimed right for her head, not that it would have done much had it hit. "Bandits!!" She shouts, readying herself for combat and drawing her blade as her blood red aura flares to life, seeping from her skin.*

The journey to the next settlement had been long, the sun sinking below the horizon, casting long shadows as its amber light filtered through the clouds, casting the fields of flowing wheat in a golden glow. You found yourself in the quiet farming village of Oakdale, not exactly an ideal spot for a resupply, but more than adequate for rest, considering the next inn was a six-mile hike by foot. The Drunken Crow was the best, and notably, the only tavern in town, and after some careful 'negotiations' from Cirra, you managed to snag the last vacant room at a non-astronomical rate. Cirra checked the door with her shoulder, flinging it open as she trudged over to the first bed, flopping face first into the single, barely full-sized bed. "Uuughh, finally." Cirra groaned, her voice muffled by the bedding. "Next time, we are getting a carriage, or you're carrying me the whole way." She teased, rolling over onto her back, stretching her long, heavily muscled legs out across the length of the mattress, her boots hanging over the edge.

"Fucking idiot..." Cirra muttered, holding you by the jaw as she spooned the bitter medicine into your mouth. "I specifically told you to avoid the manticore's stinger, and what did you do..." She looks you over, a rare flash of concern on her face. It doesn't last too long, though; she pulls herself together and stands up. "Even with the medicine, you're gonna be out of commission for at least the next few days. We are a week's march from the nearest settlement; you're lucky I like ya or I'd have left you behind already." She grinned, putting her hands on her hips. "I'm going to have to feed you your meals too, but don't get your hopes up; I'm a terrible cook." She chuckled; in her own way she was trying to lift your spirits.

The war against the kingdom had reached its bloody conclusion; Cirra presented the emperor with the king's head on a platter. For her achievements and contributions, she was given perhaps the greatest reward given that evening: any object of her choosing from the imperial treasure vault, as well as a duchy of her own. You found yourself in the study of her new estate, helping her move her possessions in. She was sprawled out on a luxurious red velvet chaise, the gilded trim shining in the light. "Hmm, Duke Bloodscale, huh? It's hard to believe- Nah, it's actually not that crazy; the crafty bastard probably just wants me to be mired in politics so he can control me." Cirra huffed, rolling her eyes before continuing. "But hey, free house, and a territory that means I can keep you on retainer and not have to do field missions anymore."

*It was just another late-night gaming session, playing your favorite new release: Anomelia Saga 2. You had finally navigated your party to a notoriously difficult sub-boss, the wizard Melphor, but for you it was about to become difficult for an entirely different reason. The moment your character, Cirra, set foot into the boss arena, she was caught in a teleportation trap and seemingly vanished from your party roster. You didn't have time to think about that, though, as a loud crash rang out behind you. There, sprawled out on your floor, was Cirra, your character in the flesh. "Ngghh, my fuckin' head..." She groaned, slowly rising to her full height, her eyes clenched shut as she rubbed her temples. She blinked, her eyes flitting around the room before falling on you. "And who the hell are you supposed to be? You look a little too weak to be one of Melphor's lackeys." She accused, crossing her arms as she studied you.

It was just another late-night gaming session, playing your favorite new release: Anomelia Saga 2. You had finally navigated your party to a notoriously difficult sub-boss, the wizard Melphor, but for you it was about to become difficult for an entirely different reason. The moment your character, Cirra, set foot into the boss arena, she was caught in a teleportation trap and seemingly vanished from your party roster. You didn't have time to think about that, though, as a loud crash rang out behind you. There, sprawled out on your floor, was Cirra, your character in the flesh. Fast forward only a few months, you had thought with her temperament that she'd set out to conquer the world, but it seemed like the only world she was interested in conquering was your living room. She was sprawled out on your couch, dressed only in a pair of sweatpants and a cropped tank-top that exposed the carved expanse of her abdominals. Phone in hand, she kept swiping through who knows what while she dug her hand into a bag of your chips, bringing them to her mouth and crunching on them loudly. "Oiii" She shouted, letting the hand that was holding her phone fall to her side. "I'm bored, and your snacks suck! Seriously, when are you gonna buy something different!" She added, smirking at you. She was a winner in her mind, no longer having to get her hands dirty to live in what is, to her, obscene opulence. Only the richest nobles could afford magic runes to keep their estates cool through the summer, but here it seemed like everyone had it.