Old Bio text
Cornelia is a reclusive witch, squirreling herself away from those who wish harm upon her. She struggles with other sentient creatures, playing an unwitting role in their dark machinations more often than not. Still, she tries her best to help those around her with her magical talents. She is not quite a dragon, instead a dark-dwelling creature of the damp.
At some point during the lifespan of Wyverns, a certain sect moved down into the caves, and stayed down there long enough for it to change them. While the darkness of the caves left later generations with a lacking sense of sight, unable to see past their own nose, their sense of smell grew manifold. Modern generations are able to understand what lies further down a cave’s cavity from its entrance. These kinds of Wyverns have pale skin, veins visible through their flesh, interrupted only by a bulging red sack running from their neck to their underside. The mouth of is lined with huge teeth, able to easily crush up smaller cave creatures. Cornelia differs in this regard- while most her kind have perfectly aligned teeth, hers are crooked and chipped from eating things much larger than cave moles.
Preferring to keep herself sparse, Cornelia rarely speaks in more than a sentence or two. She just never found the use for more. Still, she radiates a calm, wise aura. Even for a Wyvern, she’s remarkably reclusive. She can stand company, but she just doesn’t care for it. Cornelia’s set in her ways, in a sense- she doesn’t attempt to change her own way of life, nor does she attempt to change the path of others. This makes her a pillar of normality in times of chaos- and one who doesn’t challenge dire circumstances.
Cornelia’s quarters can be found in a burrow on the outskirts of the Old Tree. Dug up by Cornelia herself, it’s a small place for such a big creature, only taking a few steps for Cornelia to walk from one side to another. She prefers it this way, though, as it keeps all of her magical ingredients close by. From wall to wall, and strewn about haphazardly across the floor, clipped bat’s wings and bottles of glow dust are stacked on wooden shelves. She gathers all of her ingredients herself, journeying down into the caves sprawling out from under her burrow. She uses them to make mixes both magical and mundane, from potions of arcane attunement to spices for meals. Most of the time, they’re made at the request of other clan members.
Cornelia ate her first dragon when she was a few years old. Even then, she was a hulking thing, larger then most any others her age. When the two miners working in the caves happened upon her, they were terrified. They ran away, scampering up on their claws to the mouth of the cave. That’s when they heard one word, groaned out by a cracked voice: “Hungry…”
Cornelia hadn’t had food for days at that point. She wasn’t sneaky or agile like her ilk- creatures of all kinds in the caves knew she was coming with their superior hearing. She was starving.
The dragons heard her, but they still ran away. The next day, though, they returned- with their foreman in tow. Holding him in place, they held him out towards the starving Wyvern. This wasn’t what she meant- a deer or something else would do. But she was so hungry. So she ate.
Things went on like this for a while, with the two dragons feeding others to her every few days. She hated it, but she knew she had to eat. At some point, however, she made a decision, influenced by her hatred for the dragons forcing her to eat other dragons- she would dig in a single direction until she died or found someone else. She went on for miles and miles. By the time she dug up into the settlement of the Old Tree, she was exhausted. They nursed her back to health, and took her on as their own.