Blight Wight Hunt

The Firebird had finally been able to sneak away for some privacy- those moments were few and far between, with how heavy the guard presence was around her, even at Namarast. So when her guards had been called away, she had leapt on the chance. She had flown away, to a forest not too far from the home of the Order, to walk, to be alone with her thoughts in the autumn woods.

The leaves had begun to turn a variety of fiery colors, not unlike her own wings and scales. She knew how well she blended in with the trees- her coat was the color of bark and branch, her scales the color of the fiery leaves, her wings the mixture of the two. Hopefully that would give her more time alone before she was found and dragged back to the Order’s city, made to go through the same damn basic exercises over and over again. 

As she walked along the narrow pathway, her wings tucked in tight to fit, she inhaled the scents of autumn- the rotting of wood and leaf and vine, the spice of the leaves and their crispness, the soft undertones of creature and beast, preparing for the long winter ahead. She heard its majesty, too- the scurrying of little creatures, off to try and find the hordes they had long stashed away, the singing of the wind through crisp leaves, the calls of the few remaining birds, no longer as joyous as they were in spring and summer. 

And then there was an odd crack beneath her hooves. Natalya glanced down, confusion wisping across her face as she beheld the oddly-arranged pile of sticks and branches and bark. It lay so neatly in the middle of the path- had someone put it there? Was this their firewood for the evening, or their building materials? With a grimace, she stepped backwards, hoping to assess the damage to those branches and bits of bark, so that she might find replacements.

It was then that she noticed the silence- the birds had stopped their singing, the scurrying creatures stilled. A small flock of birds took flight, fleeing her presence, when they had been so happy to stay before. What in Ivras is going on? she thought, glancing behind her at the fleeing birds.

Then she felt it- the odd, tingling feeling of eyes on her. Slowly, she turned her head, facing back towards the pile. She saw it twitch, and she backed away, eyes wide with fear. She saw it twitch again, growing taller, as if it were a beast standing up from slumber. The branches creaked and twisted, forming a beast with the shape of a bear, if one walked on two legs. The cracked branches she had stepped on were now sharp, deadly claws, poised in her direction. A gasp left her lips as the creature opened its eyes, revealing a fiery blue- unearthly, and haunting. She could hardly notice that bear-beast, for another one- this one like a wolf- rose beside it, turning its maw of pointed wooden teeth towards her in a sickening grin.

With spine-chilling roars, the beasts attacked, and Natalya scrambled to get away. A scream left her lips as she fled, trying to find an advantageous place to hide-

Burn them break them fight them-

Her magic crawled beneath her skin, boiling through her blood, forcing her to stop, to wait, to turn around. You are a Firebird, it cried, and you do not cower before beasts made of wood, ready to burn at your hooves! 

By the Flaming Forges, she was an idiot. Yes, her mind screamed to run, to fly, to flee, but her heart soared. She was a being of flame and ash, of fire and passion. That magic recklessness returned to the forefront, and she turned, wings flared wide, an eager grin upon her face. 

Pulling on that heat, that fire, she attacked. The boggish beasts stumbled forward, another roar on their lips, when they found themselves bursting into flame. They burned, the fire the same blue as their eyes, and they screamed in what Natalya assumed to be terror as their limbs cracked and warped, as their legs gave out beneath them, as the magic holding those things together failed as their bodies turned to ash. The bear-beast gave out one last croak, the blue of its eyes winking out as Natalya’s fire extinguished its life, followed by a mournful howl of the wolf-beast as it, too, perished. 

Panting, she stayed in that mighty position, a picture of grace and beauty and might, before hearing two more sets of cracks behind her. Whirling around, she took up the same stance as she saw two more beasts rising, lowering her head and baring her teeth in a smarmy grin.

She let out a snort, pawing the ground before her. Bring it on.

(816)