Songs of Mirchbore

A smell of smoke crossed the breeze leading into the tree line, breaking the silent scent in the dense forest. With a shake of her torso, the ranger rose from the root studded darkness; dirt falling from between the seams of her woven leather armor. The small pleats around her neckline rocked in sync as her spine cracked back and forth. Her chest plate smeared with thick black mud; oozed moss from its thick torn and pierced layers, readjusted as she became upright. The ranger paused, allowing her violet eyes to adjust to the bright white blanket of light streaming into them. She flushed her cloak behind her, seeing a small reflective shine under her left boot. Kneeling, she reached a gauntlet into the mud, searching half blindly for the object. With a small heave, a thick wooden hilt revealed itself from the ground. As she reared behind the object, locking her end finger and index together, her weight leaned back slowly. The earth around the stuck object seemed to fight against her, but her leverage shook free the item, revealing her broadsword. Its body sprang out, releasing the tension, causing the ranger to stumble back slightly. She brandished the sword, inspecting it. It’s hilt, as wide as her shoulders, balanced the perfectly centered blade. Down its center were markings still filled with black ooze from the ground and in a single motion she threw it over her shoulder, wicking away the mud and clasping it on her back. With a few heavy steps she righted herself around toward the tree line. Her nostrils flared again, smoke and ash stinging her nasal cavity. The smell gave a general sense of wonder to her perceptions. What’s happening? She traced right to left down the thick row of Years Elder trees. Nothing huh? This is a little awkward. A short sneer ran across her lips and she made way out of the thickened bush that connects the trunks of trees. Breaking the seal of the dense brush, she took two half strides forward. The grass falling out of the way of her boot while her right hand slowly wrapped around the grip of her broadsword. Ten paces in front of her, she believed her eyes to still be out of focus but what was revealed seemed as a fluid wall of smoke standing just outside of the tree line in both directions. What the hell is this? She paced forward steadily never crossing her feet, hand gripped confidently on her weapon. As she drew near enough, she extended her left gauntlet with her palm facing herself inching her body forward, all parts moving as a single unit. The back of her gauntlet slowly contacted the smoke-wall. Her senses did not trigger and with little effort she began to pass herself through. Moving through the thick wall, she felt a warmth on the other side; the wall was two of her body lengths thick, but easily trafficked. Her face broke the inner surface of the wall, her nose first, erupted in a searing pain, then her senses not reacting fast enough, her eyes came through, open and curious, when she stopped completely. Within her view was the unbelievable. As the smoke dissipated, her eyes set upon flame and anguish. Her pupils felt an attraction to the burning sensation of the black fire that had engulfed the village beneath her. She stood atop a hill watching black velvet envelope the roofs and doorways of the township below, blowing out the windows and caving support structures. For an instant, she thought herself tricked by a power unknown to her. But as moments passed, what became most clear, whatever it was; it was standing at town center. I guess no one else is going to bother with this. She pulled her back foot through the last inch of smoke, planting it firmly. The Ranger spotted a walking path near her and let her eyes follow it towards the village. A trot set her heart pumping, the natural physically ingrained speed moving her efficiently enough to allow preparation for battle without burning her energy. Through the light, Darkness imitates. We are those who cast out. Those who carry remorse. For I am bound by my savior, Lithelm, Builder of the World and Hanger of the Stars, to cleanse darkened souls. The simple prayer repeated as she matched its rhythm with her feet padding the walkway. Each stride allowed her a better look at the figure. What are you? Have we met before? Her approach was calculating. She was unsure if she had been sensed, but her training allowed her the assumption of surprise. After a short time, she’d made her way to the arched entrance of the village, flame dark as night, swirling around her. There’s no heat here. Her body adapted quickly to the idea of cold fire, but her mind questioned. This is Lich Fire.