Private Roleplay renaissance [WOS]

ROMULA

It’s the scent of smoke that rouses the hellhound mutt from her slumber – a scent so familiar and sickening it jolts her from dreams of water and dragons she had been treading mere moments ago. For a moment she almost believes she’s back in Saboro’s red jungle, for a heartbeat wonders if the Mother Volcano spewed her rage of lava and ash once again upon its inhabitants.

But no – Romula was far from that place. Content in slivers of land unclaimed by empires of blood and corruption. This was no man’s land, she had scouted the edges of a pack’s borders before turning safely away to find refuge beneath the gnarled roots of a giant sycamore.

The land had seemed quiet and untouched enough – a seemingly safe place to rest. Despite all her suspicions and delusions, nothing had shouted out to the woman as odd or dangerous.

After all, how could she have predicted war on the horizon?

The smoke drives Romula from her hiding place, her sea green eyes wide as what had been a quaint and quiet woodland merely hours early were now erupted into flame and chaos. She wasted no time in beginning to flee. The ex-Saboran had survived fire and ash before, surely this would be no different.