Styx

_________________

Ceremonial Scythe Trinkets A wickedly sharp reaping scythe, adorned with the wielder's own feathers. The blade is spotless and glints as it catches the light. 47

Styx Reaper ✾ Guide

From between twisted brambles, a glimmer of blue. Wisps that flicker tantalizingly just on the edge of vision. Somewhere in the dark, a fleck of green glows steadily into swirls of thick mist. Whispers fade in and out of focus with the specks of blue, fearful and reverent. A lantern-bearing carcass heralds the arrival of a fae adorned in black and bone.

"Are you lost, wanderer?"

Background
Along the shadowed streams of the driftwood drag, a dead egg hatches. With no one to witness the miracle, Styx opens unblinking eyes. Cast in shadow, a figure forms.

"Awaken, Reaper."

Styx does not breathe. Her heart remains still in her chest. She merely rises from scattered bits of dead eggshell, and meets the shadow's dark gaze. In the darkness, there is movement, flickering shapes that coil and twist through previously empty space. A blade is pressed into her claws, rusted and worn. The shadow exhales, and Styx takes her first gasping breath as her heart begins to beat.

Her eyes pierce the veil of night. Will o wisps become dragons, dancing and swirling through her peripheral, traced in ghostly light. The shadowed figure dissipates into specks of blue, which fizzle out like sparks as they hit the ground. Styx raises her rusted blade, and the spirits howl and holler in response to the motion.

Personality