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Description
There's an accompanying story below. A short explanation, the OC still doesn't have a name and is known as Feathered One. She's a partial creation and pet project of Death and serves the Four.

Spent so freaking long on Draven... he carries way too many weapons, jesus. The camera also takes a lot of the detail, especially around Feathered One's face away.

Draven: Not my fault. They call me the Master of Blades for a reason.

Draven (c) Darksiders

***********************************************

With a flick of his wrist the lure twisted out of out of her sight and flew past the snow covered graves. She banked hard and raced towards the lure. Almost there... she thought as her talons swept forward and prepared to grab the bound relic. Suddenly, a tall ghostly figure stepped out of a portal into her line of flight.

"Watch out!" she cried. Both of them couldn't dodge each other fast enough.. She threw her talons back in the millisecond before she slammed into a solid body in a ball of feathers and snow.

"Wasn't quite expecting that." the stranger chuckled as he got up, grasped her waist to lift her up to her feet as well. The ayfid-like creature was pleasantly warm to touch.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to." she managed to sputter out, partly winded from the impact and partly flustered from the sensation of his chilling hand still on her waist. "I'm not very good at this, at least not yet."

"Your master, Death, is here right?" His accent was a tad strange and reminded her of someone from long ago. Perhaps before I became this creature, she mused. His voice was definitely a lot more pleasant to listen to than some of the demons and angels she encounter on her delivery runs though.

"Yes, but how did you know he...?"

"The metal band." he pointed out. She looked down at the rune-covered band above her clawed foot, feeling a bit self-conscious. "Right. I'll take you to him." She went to retrieve the fallen lure and slowly wound it back up as they made their way back to where Death was waiting. A thought crossed her mind, "You are...?"

"I am the Master of Blades, all that remains of the human warrior once known as Draven. And you?" The dead warrior asked.

She paused, trying to think of her name, but drew a blank each time, "I... I don't remember my name, but my master usually calls me "Feathered One" or "WRETCHED CREATURE!" if he gets highly irritated." drawing a slight chuckle from her companion.

"... I know I have a name, wish I could remember." she ended wistfully.

They continued in silence until they reached the entrance to the stone dwelling. Death looked to her, "Go attend to the relics, Feathered One."

She nodded. Before she left however, she turned to Draven and smiled, " I'm sorry about earlier, but it's an honour to meet you Bladesmaster. Hope to see you again soon."

Death raised a brow underneath his mask as they watched the Feathered One make her way upstairs, tail feathers swaying with each step. "Seems like you've caught her fancy, Draven." He commented once she disappeared. Draven shrugged, eyes lingered on the stairway for a moment before replying, "She's different than the wraiths, I'd say. She's not an ayfid is she?"

The nephilim shook his head, "No. Let's just say she's a side project I am working on..."

"That'd explain her appearance." The ghost handed him a scroll, "Back to the matter at hand, the Dead King has a message for you."

"When did you get demoted to play messenger boy?" Death chuckled as Draven muttered unintelligible curses under his breath.

Description
There's an accompanying story below. A short explanation, the OC still doesn't have a name and is known as Feathered One. She's a partial creation and pet project of Death and serves the Four.

Spent so freaking long on Draven... he carries way too many weapons, jesus. The camera also takes a lot of the detail, especially around Feathered One's face away.

Draven: Not my fault. They call me the Master of Blades for a reason.

Draven (c) Darksiders

***********************************************

With a flick of his wrist the lure twisted out of out of her sight and flew past the snow covered graves. She banked hard and raced towards the lure. Almost there... she thought as her talons swept forward and prepared to grab the bound relic. Suddenly, a tall ghostly figure stepped out of a portal into her line of flight.

"Watch out!" she cried. Both of them couldn't dodge each other fast enough.. She threw her talons back in the millisecond before she slammed into a solid body in a ball of feathers and snow.

"Wasn't quite expecting that." the stranger chuckled as he got up, grasped her waist to lift her up to her feet as well. The ayfid-like creature was pleasantly warm to touch.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to." she managed to sputter out, partly winded from the impact and partly flustered from the sensation of his chilling hand still on her waist. "I'm not very good at this, at least not yet."

"Your master, Death, is here right?" His accent was a tad strange and reminded her of someone from long ago. Perhaps before I became this creature, she mused. His voice was definitely a lot more pleasant to listen to than some of the demons and angels she encounter on her delivery runs though.

"Yes, but how did you know he...?"

"The metal band." he pointed out. She looked down at the rune-covered band above her clawed foot, feeling a bit self-conscious. "Right. I'll take you to him." She went to retrieve the fallen lure and slowly wound it back up as they made their way back to where Death was waiting. A thought crossed her mind, "You are...?"

"I am the Master of Blades, all that remains of the human warrior once known as Draven. And you?" The dead warrior asked.

She paused, trying to think of her name, but drew a blank each time, "I... I don't remember my name, but my master usually calls me "Feathered One" or "WRETCHED CREATURE!" if he gets highly irritated." drawing a slight chuckle from her companion.

"... I know I have a name, wish I could remember." she ended wistfully.

They continued in silence until they reached the entrance to the stone dwelling. Death looked to her, "Go attend to the relics, Feathered One."

She nodded. Before she left however, she turned to Draven and smiled, " I'm sorry about earlier, but it's an honour to meet you Bladesmaster. Hope to see you again soon."

Death raised a brow underneath his mask as they watched the Feathered One make her way upstairs, tail feathers swaying with each step. "Seems like you've caught her fancy, Draven." He commented once she disappeared. Draven shrugged, eyes lingered on the stairway for a moment before replying, "She's different than the wraiths, I'd say. She's not an ayfid is she?"

The nephilim shook his head, "No. Let's just say she's a side project I am working on..."

"That'd explain her appearance." The ghost handed him a scroll, "Back to the matter at hand, the Dead King has a message for you."

"When did you get demoted to play messenger boy?" Death chuckled as Draven muttered unintelligible curses under his breath.