Have you heard the legend of the Crimson Blade? Here’s your mug of ale, traveler… sit down and listen. On your long journeys — it may come in handy…
AUCTION OPEN:
Please read the auction terms carefully
SB: $60
MI: $5
AB: 200
Rules:
Payment via PayPal
Payment must be made within 24 hours after the auction ends. Otherwise, the character will be relisted for sale.
No refunds or exchanges.
There will be no usage restrictions on the character. Let your imagination run wild!
Please do not place fake bids, especially if you're not genuinely interested in adopting this OC.
If, for any reason, you win the auction but later decide not to proceed with the payment, or something important comes up and you need the money for something else — please just let me know. Honestly, it only takes a few words and a few seconds of your time.
I accept any cancellation, even if you simply changed your mind. But those few seconds will save my mental health and time, so thank you in advance! ^^
Once the character rights are transferred to you, you are free to change anything you want — the name, backstory, appearance, etc.
PROTECTION AGAINST SNIPER ATTACKS:
If a new bid is placed within the last 10 minutes of the auction, the timer will be extended by another 10 minutes. This will repeat until a final winner is determined!
FOR THE WINNER!
You will receive PNG and JPG files in the best quality without a watermark.
You will receive a file for layer editing + the chance to undress her
AUCTION from FA - https://www.furaffinity.net/view/63131309/ -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ayndra’s Story “Crimson Blade”
They say that among all dragonkind, the most dangerous are the Blood Dragons — those whose magic is born not from the elements of fire or ice, but from the very essence of life itself. Ayndra was one of them — born under the sign of the Red Moon, the one that appears once every thousand years, when the world’s blood grows restless.
Her clan lived in isolation, hiding their cursed and blessed talent — the ability to control blood, their own and that of others. For generations they kept a strict tradition: never use their power against humans, for blood is an unpredictable element; it takes more than it gives.
“Blood born from the ashes of despair”
Special Unit “Fang”
Ayndra had once been just one of dozens of soldiers in the elite unit of the kingdom of Haldir. The unit was named simply and concisely “Fang” — for it consisted exclusively of predators.
But the unit was always involved in political turmoil and, unfortunately, over the years of service had learned far too much…
“The Last Blood”
Under the pretext of “strategic importance” and “protecting the civilian population,” they were sent to the Wastes of Dhar-Kael — a place where the “flesh devourers” nested, creatures with chitinous bodies and jaws filled with sparkling bone needles.
But everything changed when one of the officers, grimly tightening the straps of his armor, whispered:
— We’ve been thrown to the wolves. Reinforcements should’ve arrived three hours ago…
His words drowned in the roar of the creatures.
“The Massacre in Dhar-Kael”
The sun was sinking behind ashen clouds when the wasteland came alive.
Creatures rising from cracks in the earth moved in waves, swarming the soldiers like a pack of living shadows. The smell of sulfur, the screech of metal, the crunch of bones — the unit was melting away before their eyes.
Ayndra, like a cornered beast, rushed between the monsters… her strength thinned just like the unit itself… the dragoness, having lost too much blood, was barely standing… It felt as though the air, mixed with blood and dust, had already soaked into her lungs, making every breath heavy and unbearable.
When another soldier fell beside her, his blood touched her hand.
And something inside snapped.
“Bastards… All of you… you’ll all die.”
“Blood Storm”
The world before her eyes fractured into shards.
Time froze — only her heartbeat pounded with infernal pain in her temples. The blood around her seemed to come alive, rising like red serpents in response to her ragged breath.
And then Ayndra stopped being just a soldier.
The wind lashed against her, lifting dust and droplets of blood. A vortex of crimson lines twisted around her like hundreds of blades. Creatures lunged — and were instantly torn apart, as if thrown into an invisible grinder.
The Blood Storm didn’t last long, but when it finally calmed, the wasteland fell silent.
Only a few soldiers remained standing, staring at their savior in shock… at the one who had just shattered the fate prepared for them — certain death.
They didn’t ask what it was. Only one thing mattered — she had saved their lives.
“Return to Camp”
They walked back to the camp all night. Exhausted, scorched, bleeding — but alive.
When they approached the gates, they were not let in immediately. The guards exchanged fearful glances. No one greeted them as heroes.
Under the walls, the camp smelled not of home, but of betrayal.
At last, the captain of the guard came out — a man Ayndra had known for five years.
But his eyes were empty.
— The “Fangs”… were meant to fall. Your return violates the councilors’ orders. Lay down your weapons. You are under arrest.
Behind him stood dozens of armed guards. Their orders were simple: kill the survivors as witnesses to the elite’s foul play.
“Night of Rising Blood”
When the first arrow was shot in their direction, Ayndra understood — there was no choice.
She stepped forward.
Her blood, still hot from battle, dripped from the cut on her arm. One drop fell to the ground. A second. A third.
The blood ignited — and exploded like a tiny fiery flower.
Panic swept through the ranks.
The “Fang” fighters, barely able to stand, charged forward like cornered wolves.
The camp turned into chaos. Screams, clashing steel, flames devouring tent fabric. Ayndra moved as if walking through water — seeing every weakness of anyone who dared raise a blade at her.
They knew too much. They were feared too deeply.
In an hour, it was over.
The camp was silent.
“Crimson Blade”
At dawn, the survivors sat by the smoldering fire, exhausted, drained, but free.
They looked at Ayndra.
She was no longer just a comrade-in-arms… not just someone who had been sentenced to death… she was the one who saved their hides with her feral will to survive.
— What now? — one of them asked. — There is no road back for us.
Ayndra lifted her head. Her voice was quiet, but sharp as a blade.
— We’ll carve our own road… and if needed, we’ll cut it with steel and burn it with fire. Those who betrayed us no longer exist for us. From now on, we are a clan… The Clan of Crimson Blade… And we will make those who betrayed us bow their heads before us.
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