Summoner

"What are you???"

The wildclaw giggled. It was a mad little noise. "I'm a dragon. Silly, what do I look like?"

The trundras took several steps backwards while she spoke. Their movements were slow, deliberate. None of them wanted to set off the newcomer for fear that she was as trigger happy as she sounded.

They were faced with a newcomer who, to her credit, was hired by the small community to do a job. A band of aggressive ridgebacks had recently begun stealing their things. It wasn't just the crops. Treasure from the nests were going missing. Herds were being culled and harrassed. If something wasn't done soon, the small community would have to fight. They weren't keen on that idea though. No one out of them would have enjoyed that conflict, and there was a chance that serious injury could occur.

Mercenaries weren't the most dependable, but some could be brought on for a reasonable price. This region's guilds were expensive. The choice seemed obvious at the time.

But this?

The one who answered their call for help was a self proclaimed... sorceror. The farmers were no stranger to magics. Spells assisted the health and safty of their crops, after all. This wildclaw arrived, however-death pale scales and face disfigured-and brought with her an entourage of undead constructs that wandered listlessly in her wake with the scent of upturned earth and char. If she had at least acted the part of the dark necromancer she clearly was, they might know how to deal with her.

Here she stood, introducing herself with manners and smiling. In the same breath, she would turn to her monstrosities and chat with them like children. Her children. Rather than the horrible machinations they were.

"W-well. Your asking price for doing what we ask is-Ah, generous? Considering the danger. Is that due to a lack of... professional experience?"

The leader decided to ask her this in hopes that the reason would justify sending her away. She seemed to consider the question, chewing on a little weed she'd picked on her way up their hill. It was a common wildflower that the leader then decided to stare at, since her milky white eyes were too hard to meet.

"Hm... Lack of professionalism? No, not really. Consider it an attempt at being sensitive to your state of need!" The wildclaw approached the dragons before her, watching them stiffen and tilting her head in response. It didn't stop her for long though. She took another couple of steps until she was in a comfortable breaths distance from the leader. She was all teeth, when she spoke. Though intimidation wasn't her goal, she did very much want to get her point across.

"If the notice was anything to go from, you're dealing with bullies. I need gold and gems to survive, and I know how to deal with bullies. Let's help each other, hm?"

And so, that was how the necromancer called the Summoner, came to be known.